


Always There for You

by levviewrites909



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4335299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levviewrites909/pseuds/levviewrites909
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The zombie apocalypse can really take a toll on individuals and relationships alike. Only the strong can survive, so thank fuck they had each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Froot Loops

**Author's Note:**

> This should be a somewhat long-winded story, with about 12 chapters and an epilogue. Hope you all enjoy this zombie apocalypse story!

The rain pounded down on the small shack mercilessly. The roof was made of some sort of metal, which caused the dinging sound of every raindrop that fell to be even sharper and louder in the otherwise peaceful sound of rain falling onto the grass or pavement. **  
**

It was the middle of the night. The downpour had started only a couple hours ago, yet the water was already seeping in from under the door and had forced them to start receding to the back wall of the shack. The fabric of their jackets got caught on the jagged wooden boards, and every now and then when they leaned forward they could feel their shirt pull and eventually a thread or two rip free.

Their backpacks were to the right of them in a lumpy pile that in the darkness only looked like a strange shadow. The one blanket they had, which was torn and unraveling at the ends (not to mention stained with mud and the occasional blood splatter they would pretend wasn’t there), was stretched over their laps, helping to keep them warm.

Trott was small enough to pull his knees up to his chest comfortably, hugging them close. Ross had his crossed like a young child, his knee occasionally bumping into the brunet’s on purpose. It was mostly a reassurance that he was still there. In Smith’s case, though, he had no choice but to stick them straight out, and being that the shack was small, the bottom of his shoes were laying right in the puddle of water that had leaked in from outside. He huffed, trying to adjust again, but winced when he felt water seep into his jeans.

He leaned in closer to Trott with a scowl on his face, crossing his arms over his chest and in the process accidentally elbowing him in the side.

“Shit- sorry,” he rasped, in the darkness seeing the smaller man’s shadowy figure. He couldn’t make out the look on his face, but felt the brunet shift over closer to Ross to move away from Smith’s arm. Smith pulled a face of mock hurt, which the brunet ignored with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he hummed, his voice a whisper. Smith nodded awkwardly, clearing his throat and leaning forward even more to look at Ross. The dark-haired man was slumped over the backpacks, although his other hand was most definitely thrown protectively over Trott’s shoulders. Smith shifted closer to Trott and could feel Ross’ knuckles brush his arm.

He smirked. “Ross? You awake, mate?”

The man jerked forward suddenly, his knees jumping under the blanket as he started to jump forward.

“What? What happened,” he asked suddenly, his voice louder than they would normally ever risk at night. Not that it mattered now, though, when the rain was pounding down and drowning his voice out to anything that stood outside the shack. It was even hard to hear him inside, but Smith managed.

“You’re gonna hurt your neck sleeping like that.” Smith shot one of his stupidly charming grins over at Ross, and although he couldn’t see it, Ross could hear the know-it-all in his voice. He listened, not thinking it was worth it to shoot back a smartass comment. He scooted closer to Trott, his arm that was tensed around his shoulders relaxing once again with the knowledge that nothing bad had happened. He leaned down onto the smaller brunet and shifted to get a more comfortable position.

“Are either of you going to sleep,” he yawned, looking at the figures that belonged his best friends.

Trott shrugged, slumping down so that his head could fit into Ross’ side. He nuzzled into his jacket, feeling the softness of the new fabric and the warmth that radiated from the man.

“Uh...I guess so.”

The redhead nodded, feeling the sleep tugging at his eyelids that were already “much too squinty” (apparently). Although they couldn’t really see him nod, Trott could feel the larger man shift position, could hear his jeans catching on the concrete on the shack as he moved.

He leaned forward, stretching out horizontally so that he was parallel to the door. Smith curled his legs up to his chest, suddenly missing the warmth of the blanket, but not really minding as his head found Trott’s lap.

Trott scoffed, but nonetheless let his hands come up to play with Smith’s hair. He yawned, his dark eyes fluttering closed as his fingers twined into the messy red curls. His hair was soft, despite the fact that he hadn’t touched shampoo or conditioner in months, although he was showered enough due to the rain.

His hair no longer had that little quiff at the front that he would always style with gel or hairspray. It had grown a lot longer as time went on without a barber being a necessity, and Smith just never bothered. Ross always nagged him about cutting it, since he always did Trott’s and his own (and was fairly good at it), but Smith always declined. He said he liked having longer hair, although last summer he finally got tired of it and agreed to cut it. Trott convinced him it was for the best, talking about how his hair wouldn’t stick to his neck in the heat. Since then, though, it had grown right about down to his ear, some strands uneven and most of them curled or wavy.

“We are still heading into the city tomorrow?” Trott’s voice broke the silence. He was hesitant, his voice quiet and not wanting to wake either of them if they were already asleep, although he seriously doubted that. Ever since it started, just about a year ago, sleep had been an issue for all three of them.

He remembered the first night that the government finally came out explaining the situation, and said that America was coming to help but it was no guarantee. He remembered how none of them got an ounce of good sleep for days. He remembered how they all sat so close together on the couch as they spoke, their eyes focused on the TV where the Queen and other important government officials were gathered. They warned them to stay indoors until rescue choppers arrived, ones with American soldiers that would check every building and make evacuation points at the center of each city.

That was the best case scenario, of course, and although all three of them pretended they believed it - they really didn’t. Their fears were confirmed months later, long after they already accepted their fates. The three of them had watched too many zombie apocalypse movies and shows to actually believe that the government could save them.

There were continual broadcasts every day on the television at first; it seemed that each day they got shorter and shorter and worse and worse quality. Then came the announcements that the water would be kept on for only three hours a day and that the power would only be turned on when they would be broadcasting news.

Luckily they weren’t stupid. They filled up cups and empty water bottles that would’ve otherwise been in the recycling up with the water while the water was on. When they finished the gallon of milk they had filled that up, and started eating all of the perishable food before moving onto other things that wouldn’t go bad for months. When the electricity was turned on for a broadcast, Ross would be the one to hop up and plug in all of their electronics that needed charging. They would be drained from the endless calls home to friends and family, the assurances that they were alright and asking if they had been “hit” yet.

Slowly, the people that they would call would stop answering. And slowly the time water was allowed went from three hours to one, and eventually not at all. Those broadcasts turned from an hour long to ten minutes, then to just sound with static in the background- then even that was gone.

That first fateful night, was when realization hit… That night marked the night of a sleepless week. They stayed awake, hoping some message would come on or they would hear something outside. Whatever was outside could be sirens, could be the sound of people coming to rescue or just the opposite. Luckily the sounds that were “opposite” didn’t come until weeks later, but they were still on edge until then, and even more so afterwards.

Sleeping in the same bed, or even the same room for that matter, wasn’t even considered until a week of restless nights and the occasional secret trip to another's room asking if they were alright. They were always hesitant to ask that question, that “Hey, can I sleep in your room tonight?” thing. It helped though, and when someone was desperate they finally seemed to say “fuck it”, grew some balls, and decided to share beds.

Now that Trott thought about it, a year into the fucking apocalypse, he realized how stupid it was, but back then he knew they were just scared. They were scared of pressing boundaries or doing things that normally wouldn’t be done, but were necessary now.

The first time they ever slept in the same bed, was that night that it started raining. It was two weeks after the last broadcast, and the dry spout just stopped suddenly and became endless pouring with lightening and thunder to accompany it.

Within an hour of them retiring for the night, both Smith and Trott were at Ross’ door. Upon seeing each other there, it was slightly awkward, but they got over it when they knocked on the door. The question left their mouths with awkward stammers that were spoken loudly so the dark-haired man could hear them over the thunder and rain that pattered endlessly against their flat.

Trott could still remember the exact words that left Ross’ mouth. The way he said,” Oh thank fuck, I was scared neither of you were gonna come in here.” He always smiled thinking about it, thinking for some reason it was one of their fondest memories.

“Yeah, we gotta,” Ross murmured, snapping Trott back to the not as pleasant present times. “Running low on bandages, all out of painkillers. God forbid one of us breaks something, or… Y-you know.”

Smith was for sure sleeping, from the sound of the snoring and the way he was no longer fidgeting under Trott’s touch. The brunet sighed, scooting closer to nuzzle into Ross’ side. His arm was still wrapped around his back and side, pulling him closer and making him feel just slightly safer.

~~~

They all walked shoulder to shoulder in silence. The sound of their feet sloshing in the soggy grass was kind of loud, and each time the water splashed up onto the bottom of their jeans they winced.

They were lucky a year ago when they found a good shoe store. Before then, Smith was the only one with proper combat boots that would keep water out of his socks and were good to do practically anything in. He originally had them for airsoft, along with other equipment such as the large backpack that was currently on his back.

Within the last year, the three of them had developed a sort of system. Who would carry what, what they would fight with, where they would stand - it became second nature to them to get into the special formation and grab their designated supplies.

The three backpacks between the three of them, held all of their survival gear that they had collected. Things such as food, water, medical supplies (which was always very limited), tools, spare clothes, and blankets were kept in those backpacks.

For food, they’d raid kitchen pantries and cabinets and loot canned things mostly. Soups or beans were usually good, even if they were cold they tasted better than stale crackers or other things that had gone bad. Getting hot food was a rarity, only when they were sure they were safe enough to light a fire and boil things in the one small pot that they had. Sometimes they would find that some houses had working stoves, and were able to whip up a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup. Food was always kept in Smith’s backpack, along with water, being that it was usually the heaviest and he was the most capable besides Ross to carry all of that.

Tools weren’t really anything special, but were important and useful when surviving. Being that the stuff was somewhat heavy, though, Ross usually carried it in his backpack. He held the occasional sharp kitchen knife, small pots and pans,  or forks and spoons to eat with. They had empty cans and water bottles that were washed out in case it rained so they could collect fresh water. He had a compass in there as well, with a map, a notebook, some pens to record messages, batteries, some rope, and other things they collected that they thought could be useful.

Trott’s was the smallest, so it was designated to the things that they had the least of - medical supplies. They usually had a couple rolls of bandages (although recently some were used and they were running dangerously low). Different bottles of pills they had collected like painkillers or things to treat fevers or allergies.  They had some supplies to stitch up particularly bad cuts too (if they ever had any), and although none of them really had experience in it they figured they could figure it out. They had carefully wrapped a bottle of alcohol in spare clothes and a blanket as well, which was stuffed inside along with the medicines.

Each of them had their own weapon as well. Smith had his axe, Ross had a baseball bat, and Trott with his trusty shovel (which was also used to bash in windows). The shovel wasn’t the best, being that it wasn’t that sharp and constantly got lodged in anything soft it came into contact with, but it was the best they could find.

Along with that, they were lucky enough to find a walkie talkie for each of them. It made it easy to communicate between them if they were separated and such. It was always on their belts, and only used in absolute emergencies since batteries were always hard to come by.

The walk to the city was longer than expected, with the harsh wind and the light sprinkles of water that fell on their heads. It was harder walking through the mud in the field then it would be in the streets, but the streets were always dangerous, even during the day time.

Day time was the easiest time to travel. When the sun was out, the creatures that lurked around seemed to become less active. Some would just lay down, others would roam slowly and their senses would be muggier and they weren’t as hungry for flesh. Nobody really knew why, but they weren’t complaining. It just made traveling during the day and sneaking around in an infested city simple.

Although nowadays, simplicity isn’t a word used lightly and most definitely doesn’t apply to doing anything like walking into a city. Doing something as easy as going to the bathroom is dangerous and could get anyone killed. The three of them had gotten used to always being on edge and ready to hop up at any moment and run or fight.

The large fields they walked through were being split by small dirt roads or paths, and abandoned shacks and large farm tools were abandoned and rusted in the middle were scattered about The dirt streets turned to asphalt, which was faded and cracked without maintenance. Concrete started lining the roads, as well as stop signs and traffic lights and buildings. The buildings got larger and larger, turning from small homes to large ones, the stores and then at the center of it all large skyscrapers and office buildings.

They stopped when they got to the poorer side of the city. They targeted homes that looked untouched by any other looters passing through, or looked like no survivors were held up in. Ones with cars still parked and nice-looking architecture were usually their main stops, and they especially avoided ones with open doors or blatant traps set up. If they were lucky, only one or two infected persons would be inside, something all three of them could easily deal with. Sometimes, they were completely abandoned, and all of the loot that was left inside was free for the taking.

Their first stop was a small home at the edge of the city. It was one story, with one car on the street and cracked pavement lining the front of it. The flowers inside the small garden were wilted and overgrown  with weeds that crept onto the sidewalk.

Ross took up the front, armed with a metal baseball bat that was covered in dry blood. He brought the weapon up as he went to the front door, knocking with his elbow loudly and waiting a moment. There were no signs of shuffling, and so he opened the door. It creaked as it opened, inwards, hitting the wall with a thud as it swung all the way around.

He popped his head inside, staring down the long narrow hallway that looked like it branched out into different rooms. His eyes narrowed, and he knocked on the inside wall again, just to be sure. This time, though, he could hear shuffling and clatter from somewhere in the house. It was faint, but it grew louder and louder by the second.

“I think there’s one,” he murmured quietly, turning back to look at Smith and Trott.

The brunet behind him had a shovel clenched in his hands, his eyes trained on the hallway in front of Ross. Smith stood close behind him, his front practically plastered to the smaller man. His trusty lumber axe rested on his shoulder, his other hand clamped on Trott’s shoulder.

“Go on, we got you,” Smith nodded, motioning with his free hand for him to walk inside.

Ross nodded, licking his lips as he turned back towards the hallway. He took a step inside, banging on the wall again a little bit louder. The shuffling was a lot louder now, and the faint sounds of groaning could be heard from somewhere. 

The house looked bland, somewhat rundown, but who was he to judge? The walls were painted a tan color that he didn’t particularly like, with ugly wall paper that cut the wall in half. Behind him, he heard the door closed, and turned to see that Smith and Trott were still right there.

The first doorway to the right was open, and didn’t even have a door. The dirty carpet beneath their feet turned to tile when they walked into the room, and showed granite countertops that rested upon wooden cabinets. The stove was all rusted and dirty, with pans and pots sitting upon it absolutely covered in flies. To the left, there was a small wooden table with three bowls set out and a box of cereal.

Smith laughed. “Jackpot!” He hopped forward, his wet shoes squeaking on the tile as he grabbed the box of cereal. “Guys-  _Froot Loops_! Holy shit, I haven’t seen these since I was a kid.”

“Shush, Smith,” Trott whined nervously, hanging back towards the doorway. He peeked out into the hallway, before turning back. “There’s at least  _one_  in here with us.”

“Mkay, mate,” the redhead nodded, eagerly tearing open the box. “Do you mind if Ross and I eat all the Froot Loops-”

“Nuhuh,” Ross hummed, reaching forward and tearing the box from his grasp. He didn’t miss the disappointed pout that showed on his lips, and the way he crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, don’t be a baby. We just ate, we should save them. Turn around, let me put ‘em into your pack.” He pulled the thick plastic bag out of the box, bringing it to his nose and inhaling. The sweet fruity scent made him smile, but he carefully shoved the bag inside the bag and zipped it up before Smith could protest.

“We should clear the rest of the house before we mess around.”

“You’re no fun Trotty,” the redhead chuckled, sticking a tongue out at the brunet. “They have  _Froot Loops_. Imagine what other good shit they can have in here!”

“Keep your voice down,” the brunet hissed, his voice stern, but still a murmur. “I’d rather not be drooling over some stupid cereal and then be killed by fucking zombie.”

“He’s right, c’mon Smith. We can eat ‘em later tonight, as a treat.” Ross patted the taller man on his shoulder, shaking his head when he frowned again.

“You are both no fun. What if we die before we get to eat them?!”

“Don’t say that shit,” Trott snapped, staring pointedly at Smith. “We will probably find some great stuff as we get further into the city, but let’s not forget that this place is dangerous and infested. There are hundreds of them here and it just takes one loud voice to set them off.”

“Again, Smith, he’s got a point…” Ross trailed off, stepping towards the doorway to join Trott. “Now c’mon, let’s find the fucker then we can move on.”

~~~

The rest of the rooms really weren’t anything special. There was a living room to the right of the hallway, with a back door that led to a large yard. Outside the grass was all dead and overgrown, and the picket fence was broken and falling apart from years of water damage and not being tended to properly. They figured it might’ve been like that before.

There were two bedrooms as far as they could tell, one with large bed and wardrobe that shared a wall with the kitchen. It must’ve been the master bedroom, what with the en suite bathroom and the obviously nicer and larger things inside. The bed was unmade, and the bed frame had obviously been a home project gone not  _entirely_  correct.

In the bathroom’s cabinet, they didn’t find anything special. Some Neosporin might’ve been helpful, but they already have a tube of that and for some reason none of them thought the “Hello Kitty” bandages would be worthwhile to loot. Along with that, none of them could miss the three containers of different medications, each one for depression or suicidal tendencies.

There was another bathroom besides that one, which was more of a mess and obviously more geared towards children. The bathtub and shower had rust stains all over, and the countertop was covered in blue toothpaste and nail polish. In the cabinet, they found two toothbrushes with cartoon characters on the handles, along with matching toothpaste tubes.

The last bedroom door was closed, and the faint groaning from before could be easily heard loud and clear through the wood. They hesitated though, with the knowledge that children lived here and that there could be a young corpse waiting beyond that door.

“Do we really have to open it?” Ross’ hand was the one curled around the doorknob, and yet he hesitated. “There probably won’t be anything good, and…” His look turned somber, and he bit his lip as he looked between his two friends somewhat hopefully. “Couldn’t we just go and raid the kitchen and leave? There’s no need to risk it.”

Trott was about to open his mouth to argue, saying that if anybody had hung up in the room for awhile, there could be supplies. Plus, there was no guarantee it was a kid, it could’ve been the mother or father or even some random stranger.

Smith interrupted him though. He knew better, knew not to test Ross with these sorts of things. “No- yeah. Let’s, maybe they have another box of Froot Loops. I mean, who would only buy  _one_  box if given the chance?” He smiled, trying hard to seem genuine and give Ross that comforting look.

Ross nodded. “Yeah, probably. Let’s go.” He spoke quickly, and his hand easily fell away from the brass doorknob. He squeezed past his friends that were crowded in the thin hallway, his boots thudding on the ground as he made his way back towards the kitchen.

Smith and Trott watched him go, watched the stressed and unsure look upon his face turn to relieved. The second he stepped around the corner, Smith turned to Trott.

“It’s too soon, for him.”

The brunet bit his lip. “He’s gonna have to get over it… I mean, he’s eventually gonna be in a situation where he’s going to  _have_ to…”

“No, he won’t be.” Smith shook his head. “We are here, right? And as long as we are here, he won’t have to go through  _that_  again.”

“It affected all of us.”

“Him the most though. Both you and I are pretty much over it, but it obviously still get’s to him. How long ago was his last,” Smith paused. He strained to listen for Ross, but all he could hear was the shuffling in the door behind him. He still lowered his voice to a whisper as he continued, though. “...nightmare, where he’d wake up screaming about the little girl killing us and he just watched because he couldn’t-”

“He  _would_  be able to if  _we_  were in danger,” Trott huffed.

“Yeah, well I’d hope so… But that doesn’t mean it isn’t something that freaks him out. I mean I get where he’s coming from, I don’t really enjoy killing children-”

“They aren’t children. They are monsters, we all know this.”

Smith sighed. “Alright, fine. Be an ass, I don’t care. Just, try to be a bit less insensitive for him alright? We all have our things, and we all respect them. We look out for each other, and I know for sure we aren’t ever leaving each other and therefore we can take care of each other.”

The brunet sighed, looking down at his boots. “Smith…” He was cut off by a single digit being held up to his lips, along with another warm hand on his shoulder.

“No. I know where you are going with this. Just don’t. We don’t need that as we are about to go swimming in shark infested waters.”

~~~  
  


They stopped at a few other small houses, only having to deal with two other infected. Despite their luck in that respect, they didn’t find much supplies besides a roll of medical tape and some more soup (although they already had too much of that and couldn’t fit anymore).

It was around five o'clock when they made it into the nicer parts of the city, where the houses were larger and everything was a bit better kept. Of course nothing was really  _intact_ , being that nothing had been managed for the past year, but it still looked nice.

They picked a house that was on the very edge of the city, with a big backyard and a large fence that separated the city from the fields. A nice black car was parked in the driveway,  and the garden was filled with bright flowers and bushes that had grown wildly.

“It’s getting late, we might as well stay for the night.” Trott murmured as they approached the front door, standing behind Ross and feeling Smith’s warmth against his back.

Ross nodded. “We’ll have to stay quiet for awhile… It’s almost sunset anyway.We can do a quick skim through everything, then retire for the night. Maybe there will be an actual bed that isn’t covered in blood or something rancid like that.”

He knocked on the wood, loudly. It made all three of them wince with the knowledge of the approaching darkness, and Smith was the first to turn around and watch them from behind.

“Just go in, mate. Don’t wanna be stuck out here,” he hissed.

Ross nodded, reaching for the doorknob and twisting. He inwardly cursed when it didn’t budge.

“It’s locked,” he whispered back towards Trott. “Do we still have the lock pick?”

The brunet shrugged. “Possibly. Otherwise we might have to break a window…”

“Nah, too much noise. Both of you, keep your voices down.” Smith’s hands were clenched around his axe as if it was a life line, which in some ways it was. He looked up and down the street for any sign of the creatures being awoken by the sunset. The sky was already turning different shades of orange, and it only made him antsy as he stood there.

Trott quickly unzipped Ross’ backpack, rummaging around through the supplies. He made a noise of triumph when he found the lockpick, and quickly pulled it out and handed it to Ross.

The dark-haired man made quick work with the lock, being that he was practiced in the skill. After a year of picking locks though, all three of them could find their way in anywhere within five minutes.

The door opened to a much wider hallway than in the first house. It immediately split off into an open den, with stairs visible from where Ross stood. The decor was normal. The normal brown colors with a splash of bright green in certain areas that tied everything together. Abandoned hooks where pictures used to be hung up still lined the walls, and with that in mind the boys were hoping for a relatively easy sweep over the place.

~~~

The moon just peeked over the horizon when the boys settled in for the night. As a precaution, they blocked off the doors downstairs with furniture, as were the stairs in case something decided to crawl through the windows.

The bedroom they picked to stay in for the night was very large. It had a window that showed both the front and the backyard, which was good to have so they could see what was going on down there.

The room had a large bed, with nice fancy headboards made of mahogany. The floor was hardwood, and the walls were light blue with a rich brown color used as a border. The bedsheets were made, with two quilts and a comforter plus more than enough large and fluffy pillows.

Smith was sprawled over the bed, rubbing his face on the pillows and sighing with delight. His backpack was discarded on the floor to the right, with the bag of Froot Loops open and almost halfway empty.

“This is nice,” he spoke, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Ross nodded, walking in from the en suite bathroom with a small box in his hands. His eyes were scanning over the small letters on it, holding the box much too close to his face. He plopped down on the bed by Smith’s feet.

“I found some spray that’s supposed to clean cuts and shit.” He tossed the box at Smith’s head, laughing quietly when the man yelped.

“Ouch! What the fuck, Ross!”

“Shutup, both of you,” Trott huffed. He was gathered by the window that looked over the front yard. His brow was furrowed with worry, mentally counting each corpse he saw roaming. “They can hear pretty well.”

“Are there a lot,” Ross questioned, his voice serious yet the smile on his face he was shooting at Smith betraying his tone.

Smith had turned and gotten onto his knees, his arms up as he tried to “challenge” Ross. The dark-haired man smirked, backing up towards the bottom of the bed definitely not graciously. He almost fell multiple times, and when Smith started coming closer he did actually fall over with a yelp.

The redhead was quick to pounce on him, earning a laugh and a playful objection from Ross. They giggled and laughed as Smith pinned Ross’ arms to the bed. His legs were on either side of Ross’ pushing his legs together. Smith towered over him, his grin making the corner of his eyes crease.

“Oh look who’s on top,” Smith laughed, grinning evilly. “You still ticklish Ross?”

The dark-haired man’s eyes widened, faking fear as he tried to wriggle away. “N-no! Help, Trott! Help!”

Trott shot a glare back at the two, about to tell them to shut up again. When he saw the two of them, though, laughing and smiling, his glare softened.

“Smith, you definitely shouldn’t be on top. You are such a bottom bitch,” he spoke.

Smith’s eyes immediately shot up to the brunet, his mouth opened in shock and denial. Ross burst into laughter, much too loud for their predicament.

“Sh, Ross,” Trott gently shushed him, although instead of a stoic look, he was trying to hide the grin that was upon his lips as well.

“Smith, you heard him! You’re a bottom bitch, mate,” Ross giggled, tugging his arms away from Smith’s grasp. He made a triumphant noise as he pushed at the man’s chest, somehow succeeding in pushing him over.  Ross quickly got on top of him, pinning Smith’s arms down. “See, this is better. Great position to fuck you into the bed.”

Smith flushed, his eyes still wide. “N-no! Get off of me,” he stammered, pushing at Ross’ arms.

Ross was about to refuse, but when he noticed the blush on Smith’s cheeks and the way he was no longer smiling, he decided against it. He let go of his arms and stood up, backing away from the bed and instead sitting next to him.

“Sorry, mate,” he laughed lightly, nudging at his shoulder. “Just a joke.”

“Shit guys, blow out the candle.” Smith and Ross looked back at Trott. He looked much more serious now, his eyes drawn towards the infected that were lurking below. The brunet continued. “They heard us, some of them are looking up here.”

Smith was the one that stood up, walking towards the candles that were lit on the bedside table and quickly blowing them out.

~~~

It was just about midnight when Trott’s eyes snapped open. The room was dark, but he could feel the warmth of Smith and Ross pushed into either side of him. He was sticky with sweat, his face red and heartbeat fast.

At first he didn’t hear it, because his heartbeat was too loud in his ears and he was trying to get his breathing back under control. Nightmares sucked so bad, and usually never let him go back to sleep unless Smith or Ross were there comforting him. They were asleep now, though, and he didn’t want to wake them up.

After a few moments of silence, and when his breathing finally slowed to a somewhat normal pace, did he actually hear it. The groans were /loud/, much too loud for his liking. They weren’t just regular noises that the infected made either. It was the sounds of them hearing something, of finding their prey and calling others to join them.

He took a deep shuddering breath, listening to the loud groans that seemed to be coming from just outside. How were Smith and Ross sleeping through this? It was as if he had headphones over his ears and was listening to them, they sounded close enough to be in the same room.

The moonlight that bled through the window was just enough for him to see in the room. The shadows of different things were easily associated with objects. The wardrobe, the TV stand, a picture frame, the door, the bathroom, their backpacks… luckily no zombies.

He sighed with the realization that he wouldn’t get any sleep, and instead turned his head towards the right. He could see Ross in the shadows, sleeping on his side with his back to Trott. His breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling, and it gave Trott some relief that he was sleeping alright. Smith was similar, although snoring loudly with his stomach and face pushing into the mattress.

Trott rolled his eyes, debating on waking him up and making him sit up slightly so he would stop snoring. Maybe that’s what all the infected heard, that they were looking for the giant bear that was making the loud noises. He scoffed at his own joke, smiling to himself in the darkness and trying to ignore the groans. 

It was somewhat easy, and maybe if he curled up to Ross or Smith he would be able to go back to sleep. He knew it was a longshot, knew it probably wouldn’t work, but he still scooted back down the mattress so his head was level with the pillows. He nuzzled his face into Ross’ back, taking in his warm familiar scent. He let his eyes flutter closed, and let his hand come up to rest on Ross’ waist…

**BANG CRASH**

He sat up immediately, his eyes widened with fear at the sound. It sounded like glass breaking, and the sound of footsteps downstairs that followed it made his breath hitch.

His hand on Ross’ waist tightened, shoving at him and trying to get him to wake up.

“Ross! Ross,” he hissed, trying to be quiet and yet he found it increasingly harder with the noises that were coming from downstairs. The loud banging, the thudding of feet on hardwood floors, and the groans that accompanied them.

Ross groaned, his hand coming up to rub his eyes. It took him a moment for him to react, as he just lazily yawned like he was waking up on a Sunday. Then he heard Trott’s urgent whispers beside him, the persistent tugging on his shirt, and the groans and sounds coming from somewhere nearby.

He shot up, his head spinning towards Trott. The smaller man looked scared, his eyes wide in the brightness, and the moonlight shined on his face so that you could see the fear in his face.

“R-Ross, they got in,” he whimpered, sniffling and reaching up to wipe his eyes. Ross couldn’t see any tears, but he didn’t need to see them to figure out Trott was crying.

His look softened. “Shh, it’s okay,” Ross whispered. He sat up completely and reached forwards to wrap his arms around Trott. He hugged him close, feeling the brunet’s head nuzzle into his shoulder.

“Wake up Smith, let’s move the furniture in front of the door, okay?” He pulled back, looking at the brunet who nodded reluctantly. Ross frowned at the scared look on his face. He pulled his sleeve over his hand and reached forward to wipe Trott’s eyes. His hand ran down his face to cup his cheek, and he shot him a reassuring smile. “Hey, it’s okay. Look, we’re both here. Now go wake up the useless brick wall behind you.”

Trott smiled at his comment and nodded, turning towards Smith. As he made work of waking him up, Ross pulled himself out of bed quickly. He decided the TV stand was the best shot and quickly went towards the right side of it. He started pushing it forward towards the door, wincing as it made noises of protest as it scraped along the floor.

Meanwhile, Smith had woken up. When he saw Trott’s face, looking worried and scared, and the sound of the infected and the clatter downstairs, he immediately pushed himself off his stomach and turned towards Trott.

“What happened,” he asked, his voice still laced with sleep. His brow furrowed when he saw Ross behind Trott, trying to move the TV stand.

“Th-they got in,” Trott explained. “Ross is blocking up the door, looks like we’ll be holding up here for quite awhile.”

Smith nodded, looking down at his hands that were in his lap. Trott sat criss-cross applesauce in front of him, his hands tightened on his own jeans.

“Are you okay?” Smith asked gently, reaching forward to wrap his fingers around Trott’s shoulder.

The brunet shrugged, looking down and biting his lip. “Y-yeah, just- it scared me. Neither of you were awake, and they got  _in_  and we are trapped in here now and we can’t get out and-”

“We’ll get out,” Smith interrupted his babble. “We will, Trotty-Too-Hotty.”

Trott smiled at the nickname, despite his slight annoyance at the use. “Why do you always have to call me that?”

“Only the truth, mate,” Smith grinned, seemingly oblivious of the meaning behind his words. It wasn’t until after Trott’s eyes widened and his gaze faltered did he realize what he said. “Shit- I-I mean uh-”

He was interrupted by Ross sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling the backpacks up onto the mattress with a sigh. “We’re gonna have to go through the window.”

“We can’t wait it out,” Trott asked.

Ross shook his head. “No… I decided to take a little peek and down the hallway I saw about four of them. On the stairs I saw more, and I could still hear some downstairs.”

“Are there any in the backyard,” Smith questioned curiously. “Could we jump from there?”

Ross nodded. “I believe there is a little overhang we can jump on, and as far as I could see there were none back there. If we are quiet; we can escape easily.”

“Perfect. Just perfect,” Smith huffed. “We are never going into a city again.”

“Agreed,” Trott nodded. “They are so loud. No sleeping tonight…”

“I wouldn’t trust myself to sleep, incase they broke down the door,” Smith scoffed. “Don’t worry, though, Trotty. I’ll protect you.”

The brunet scoffed. “I’d rather have Ross.”

~~~

The sun was just rising when the three of them opened the large window that overlooked the backyard. They cut open the screen on it with the axe, Trott being the first one to step out into the overhang covered in shutters. It was just a foot under the window, slanted slightly.

Ross’ hand held his tightly as support to help him down and get his bearings. It was still somewhat high off the ground, but Trott figured if he hung off the edge his feet would be closer to the ground and it’d be easier to land on his feet. Ross followed him out the window, scooting over so that Smith could get through.

He somehow got through as well, although he hit his head on the top of the window frame, cursing himself quietly. His boots squeaked on the somewhat wet roof tiles, and his he gulped when he looked over the edge.

“So how are we gonna do this?”

Trott bit his lip. “Uh, here.” He took off his backpack, handing it to Ross. The handle of his shovel was sticking out of the pocket slightly, but that just made it easier to grab if he needed.

He slowly moved so he could sit down on the edge of the roof, careful with each of his movements. He eventually turned around, then slowly moved so that his legs hung off the roof. His fingers tightened around the edge of the brick, the sharp hard material digging into his palm as he slowly pushed himself over the edge.

“Wish me luck,” he chuckled quietly, before letting go. The fall was scarier than he thought, longer than he realized as well. His feet hit the grass with a thud, and his ankles would’ve buckled if he hadn’t bent his knees upon impact.

He looked up, giving them a thumbs up and silent smile. He motioned for Ross to throw down the backpack. Instead of landing in his arms, like planned, it landing on the floor behind him. He rolled his eyes, shooting Ross a scowl that was returned with a teasing smile.

He slipped the backpack on his shoulders and grabbed the shovel, holding it in his hands as he went around to check for any infected. Towards the right, he could only see the high fence that separated the front yard from the back. He could hear the groaning loud and clear now, and was sure to be extra quiet as he walked around. On the other side of the yard, he saw a cellar door. He ignored it in favor of inspecting the fence, making sure it was okay before walking back around to Ross and Smith.

“All clear!” He spoke quietly, and watched as Ross tried to get down the same way he did. He did it successfully, although he almost slipped off the roof twice. 

Then it was Smith’s turn. He threw his backpack down to them, trying to roll up the sleeves of his thick jacket as he started to make his way down. He sat down slowly just as the others did, being cautious with each movement.

He sat on the edge and went to turn, his hands not very happy with the feeling of brick digging into his skin. He slowly lowered himself down so that only his elbows remained on the roof, holding him up.

“Nice ass, Smith,” Trott called from where he stood, chuckling when Smith muttered a curse under his breath.

Without thinking, the redhead went to flip Trott off. While doing so, he managed to lose his balance, and fell ungracefully to the floor. He fell hard on his left ankle, and screamed out loudly. He could feel his bone crack underneath his weight, and could hear it as well. Both Trott and Ross’ eyes widened, immediately rushing forward to help their friend.

“Fuck, Smith. You okay,” Ross hissed, kneeling besides the redhead.

“No,” he shook his head. He struggled to sit up, his whole body protesting in slight pain. “I think I broke my ankle, and bruised the rest of my body. Fuck.”

“Smith! Lower your voice,” Trott warned. He stood with Smith’s backpack in his right hand, his shovel in his left.

The sounds of groans were louder now, and Trott was suddenly worried that some of the ones that were inside would try to go for them as well.

“Did any of them hear,” Smith asked.

“I’m assuming so,” Trott shook his head. “Although none of them seemed to-”

He was interrupted by a sickening crack coming from the right, and his eyes widened as the sound of banging seemed to increase. The brunet quickly sidestepped towards the right side of the yard, eyes widening as he saw hands coming up over the fence, as well as some breaking through the soft wood.

“Shit, we gotta go! Help him up, Ross, c’mon,” Trott muttered, starting towards the fence in the backyard.

“I gotta climb that?!”

“Stop whining, c’mon, now,” Ross muttered, standing and offering Smith both of his arms.

Smith grabbed his hands, pushing the foot that wasn’t injured into the dirt. Ross pulled at his arms, and Smith tried to push himself up with his foot. It wasn’t easy, being that each movement was filled with pain, but eventually he was hoisted up.

Once he was up, he swung an arm around Ross’ shoulder, keeping any weight off his still throbbing ankle as he attempted to hop towards the fence where Trott was already waiting.

The fence wasn’t that tall, at least for Smith. He wasn’t exactly sure that it could support his weight, but he still let go of Ross in favorite of grabbing onto the top of it. He couldn’t really get a could grip on the wood, but he somehow managed to get his elbows up on the top of it. He pulled himself over, although he flopped ungracefully onto the floor on the otherside.

Just as he got over, there was another louder sickening crack, then a thud. Within moments, two infected were limping around the corner, ready to eat whatever caught their attention.

“C’mon, Trott! I’ll boost you,” Ross yelled, already throwing the bags over the fence towards Smith. He kneeled down, his knee up ready to push the brunet over.

“Wh-what about you?” Trott quickly made his way over, still checking over his shoulder as he stepped onto Ross’ knee. The added height allowed him to reach over the fence, so that he could get the wood under his elbows.“C’mon, hurry up- Ross!”

Ross turned around, coming face to face with a disgusting creature. It snarled, his yellow eyes staring transfixed on his form. Ross yelped, his hands coming out to shove the creature backwards. He pushed hard enough for it to fall backwards, although the other five that were already spilling through the fence weren’t a welcome sight.

“ROSS,” Trott screamed, still hanging over the edge of the fence.

“JUST GO,” Ross screamed, already starting to walk over towards the left side of the yard. He could hear Smith from the other side of the fence, screaming as well and asking what was going on. He didn’t want to make eye contact with Trott, he wanted to avoid the sad dark brown eyes that he was bound to see.

“YOU DON’T HAVE ANYTHING!”

“JUST GO! I HAVE THE WALKIE TALKIE I’LL BE FINE,” he yelled back, glancing towards the brunet. He motioned towards the radio that was attached to his belt. “TROTT! JUST FUCKING GO GOD DAMMIT!”

Trott shook his head. “ROSS!”

“CHRIS FUCKING GO HELP SMITH! WE’LL ALL BE DEAD IF YOU DON’T!” He was already going around the corner, his hands out ready to shove away any of the zombies that got too close.

“R-Ross…” Trott whimpered as he disappeared around the corner. It wasn’t until one of the creatures were approaching him that he actually pulled himself over, when it’s disgusting claws started reaching for his leg.

~~~

“Shit! Shit!” He was talking more to himself at this point, staring wide eyed at the fence that was on the verge of breaking on the other side of the yard. He could see the hands sticking through the holes, the occasional eye or mouth that would flash by, snarling at him with their rotten teeth.

He almost wanted to cry when he saw the cellar doors, and when he turned back and saw one of the creatures approaching, he went for it. He quickly knelt down, his hands tugging at the handles on the door. It opened with a loud creak, and without hesitation he jumped into the darkness.

The light from outside spilled in, showing shadows of the basement that didn’t seem to harbor any of the creatures. His eyes widened as one of the monsters were already approaching about to jump in with him.

Ross immediately reached up to close the doors, and when he did, they shut with a loud thud that submerged him in darkness. 


	2. Realization

“Trott? Trott! What happened?”

The brunet stood facing the fence, his eyes wide as the realization of what just happened slowly sunk in. Through the small holes and cracks in the picket fence, he could see more and more infected stumble by. Some of them caught wind of him and started hammering on the fence while others gathered towards the left side of the yard where Ross had ran towards.

“CHRIS WHERE’S ROSS,” Smith screamed. He looked panic-stricken, although still sitting down in the tall damp grass surrounded by their backpacks. Ross’ baseball bat was thrown besides him, as was Trott’s shovel, his axe clutched tightly in his hands.

Trott turned, his face pale besides the red tint of his cheeks. His eyes were puffy due to the tears slipped down his skin. He looked down at Smith, taking a shuddering breath as the words tried to form in his throat.

“H-He… I-I didn’t- no _he_  d-didn't a-and.” His words didn’t make any sense and only made the redhead’s brow furrow in confusion.

Of course Smith wasn’t stupid, though. After a moment, he could obviously tell Ross wasn’t here and that there were far too many infected on the other side of the fence for him to be able to fight them all off. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, the sudden need to throw up all the Froot Loops he had ingested hours ago.

“F-fuck,” he stammered, looking away from Trott’s eyes and instead down at his lap. His hands tightened their grip in the grass, searching for the mud to sink his fingers into. “Oh my god…”

They stood in shocked silence, besides the occasional sniffles or gasps of breath from Trott and the sound of infected behind the fence. Their feet thudded on the ground, and they cried out in low raspy growls that weren’t human enough to even be considered voices.

Trott stood trembling in front of Smith, his fists clenched at his sides. Pent up anger filled his whole body, making him shake with rage and utmost sadness at what had happened. His fingernails dug into his palm hard enough to leave red crescents in his skin, maybe even enough for them to bleed. His chest was heaving, panic clouding his mind and taking control of his whole body.

Without thinking much he turned quickly, standing to face the fence once again. He screamed suddenly, his voice raw and loud and fueled purely by sadness and rage. His clenched fists came forward against the wood that was still damp with rain, pounding on the hard surface as he screamed for Ross.

Smith looked up, watching him for awhile as he threw a tantrum like a two-year-old in a supermarket that everyone secretly wanted to smother. He  could clearly see his shoulderblades through his shirt, tensing and untensing with each movement of his arms. For a moment Smith questioned where his jacket went before he saw it strewn on the floor besides the brunet. Trott stomped his feet as he screeched, his face red and showing how out of breath he was as he took his anger out on the fence. It wasn’t until he decided to start kicking the fence that Smith started to intervene.

“Trott, stop.” He didn’t want to yell, so he spoke gently. That’s what Ross would do to calm Trott down, right? He had to be calm and patient (which ironically was something that he really couldn’t do). He could barely hear himself over Trott, and the brunet continued on.  

Smith rolled his eyes, forgetting the pain in his ankle for a moment and going to try and stand. He put his palm into the damp earth, pushing up and placing both of his feet solidly on the ground to try and push himself up. He cried out at the pressure on his left ankle, immediately flopping backwards as terrible pain that throbbed in his ankle.

He looked up warily at Trott, still in immense pain. Trott didn’t look to be stopping anytime soon, although he looked like he could pass out any second.

“Trott, knock it off!” Smith raised his voice this time, somewhat irritated with his friend’s behavior. He wasn’t the best at handling his emotions, hell none of them were. 

Smith was terribly prone to anger, to go as far as giving the silent treatment and not touch anyone for days on end or sometimes smashing things. Ross could be loud, although he was probably the most stable of the three of them. Of course he’d get pissed, but he was good at calming the other two down.  _He_  was the one that would usually calm Trott down because Smith would be too pissed to do it himself, and yelling at someone who was crying was  _not_  the best solution. Trott could be apathetic sometimes (although afterwards he would feel terribly guilty about it), serious in one moment and then giving into sobbing fits in the next. Sometimes he had triggers, like noises in the night or sudden dangers, and other times they were just sitting there and he would wake up sobbing.

“TROTT! KNOCK IT OFF! THEY ARE GONNA HEAR AND START BUSTING THROUGH TO US AS WELL! STOP BEING A BABY!”

Trott stopped, still shaking as he slowly turned towards Smith.

“F-fuck you, S-Smith,” he rasped, even his voice shaky as he spoke. “Ross is  _dead_.”

“Bull-fucking-shit. Really, Trott? He isn’t dead, stop being a pussy and get it together,” Smith snapped.

“Why the hell do you think none of them are bothering with us? They gotta snack free for the taking, unarmed with no way to defend himself.”

The redhead raised an eyebrow. “You know that isn’t true. I didn’t hear anybody screaming besides your ass, so I seriously doubt that.”

“You are such an asshole,” Trott avowed, his voice bitter. He didn’t say it in a joking tone, and it only made Smith’s blood boil.

“At least I’m not the baby throwing a fit and trying to break down a fence,” Smith exclaimed. His pointed his hand at Trott. “At least I’m not a weak fuck like you!”

“I’d like to see you live a fucking hour without my help you inconsiderate, insensitive, little shit!” Trott took a deep breath, still visibly out of breath. “You gotta broken ankle, mate. You gonna stop me from taking the bags and leaving you!?”

“You’re gonna leave me,” Smith scoffed, laughing dryly at the statement. “I’d like to see you _try_ , Trott. How you gonna carry all of the stuff? You gonna fight off hordes by yourself with a shovel? Oh look! It’s Mr. Badass that just  _tried to fucking break down a fence like it would help Ross at all._ ”

“What do you suggest I do?! Go in there and get myself killed trying to help him?”

“I thought you  _were_  trying to do that! I thought you were trying to break down the bloody fence to get in there!”

Trott sniffled, quickly wiping the tears from his cheeks. “Y-you want to leave him?”

“Of course not,” the redhead shook his head. “Do you seriously  _not_  think I’m upset at all by this?” He stared quizzically at Trott, waiting for a response from the brunet that was far too delayed. “Woooow,” Smith shook his head sarcastically, somewhat hurt. “Believe it or not, I’m  _not_  an apathetic asshole like you can be. Believe it or not,  _I_  care about Ross! But I  _also_  care about you, and at the moment you are the only one I have, so step the fuck away from that fence before a zombie crawls through it and takes you away too!”

Trott narrowed his eyebrows, looking over Smith as the anger faded away to guilt. “I-I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I-I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up and get over here,” Smith interrupted. He spread his arms for Trott. “Come help me up so I can hug the shit out of you.”

Trott laughed light-heartedly, nodding and wiping his eyes again as he quickly made his way over. He grabbed Smith’s wrists, tugging experimentally and realizing this might be a bit tricky.

“On the count of three,” he paused, waiting for Smith to nod before starting to count. The redhead braced his right foot in the soil, his left foot laying simply. “One… Two… Three.” He grunted as he tried to pull Smith up, realizing either how weak or how heavy Smith was. He ended up succeeding, though.

“It’s easier when Ross does it,” Smith chuckled, taking a deep shuddering breath as he stood, bending his knees and trying to stabilize himself. His hands gripped Trott’s elbows, his left foot barely scraping along the ground.

Smith looked down at the brunet, examining his bloody scratched up hands. His face was still flushed and his tears created clear paths down his cheeks that were covered in dirt. Smith sighed, feeling warm and fuzzy looking down at him.

He wrapped his arms around the smaller, pulling him close to his chest. Trott yelped, still wrapping his hands wrapped around his back as well as he nuzzled into him. He rested his head against his chest, hearing and feeling his heartbeat underneath his skin. It thudded fast under his cheek, still pumped with adrenaline from the events that occurred moments ago.

“Does it hurt a lot,” Trott questioned, concern etched into his face as he looked down at Smith’s ankle. He pulled away just barely to look down, although his arms were still lightly wrapped around his back.

“Hurts like a bitch,” the redhead shook his head. “I dunno if it’s broken or sprained, but if it’s broken I don’t think we can fix it…”

“Can you move it?”

“I’d rather not try…”

“Smith! Just do it,” Trott demanded, looking down at Smith’s foot.

The redhead sighed, willing himself to move his left ankle. He hissed in pain as he did so, although he only flexed it slowly and very carefully.

“See! It’s not broken,” the brunet smiled. “That’s something!”

Smith shrugged. “I guess so… Here, give me the two heavier backpacks.”

“I can carry them-”

“You’re gonna have to be supporting me anyway, mate,” he chuckled. “We should find a place to rest until tomorrow, maybe they’ll clear away.”

Trott nodded. “You have a point… Plus you need rest. Here, are you balanced?” He still held Smith’s arm, but started to slowly move away when Smith nodded.

“Y-yeah, fine,” Smith confirmed, stretching his arms outwards to help balance.

Trott carefully let go, his hands still ghosting over Smith’s arms as he stepped towards the bags. He bent down, shoving the baseball bat in the tools backpack and the shovel in his own. He glanced at Smith, and raised an eyebrow.

“Where’d your axe go?”

“Oh, on the floor,” he muttered, not daring to move and look over at Trott as he carefully gestured towards the right of him. The brunet could see the red axe head in the midst of green grass. He sighed, pulling his backpack over his shoulder before walking over to Smith with the other two in his hands. Smith tried to look behind him without really turning his head.

Trott stepped behind him, dropping the backpack with food on the floor and instead using his free hand to help Smith. 

“Grab my arm,” he murmured. Smith did as he was told, and watched as Trott carefully slipped the right strap of the backpack over his right arm. He then let go of his left arm, pushing it through the strap whilst making sure that Smith was steady on his one foot. “You good?”

“Yes sir,” Smith smiled. “What about the other-”

“I got it.” Trott swung it over his left arm which wouldn’t be used to support Smith. He walked over towards the axe, picking it up and then handing it back to the redhead. “Just in case, keep it out.”

~~~

They trudged along slowly for a few miles. The fields got muddier and muddier as they went along, each section more flooded than the last. Their jeans were pretty much soaked up to their knees, and their boots were absolutely covered in mud by the time they reached the first building.

They only passed a couple infected, getting by without alerting any of them by hiding among the overgrown crops and weeds. It was hard to do so, being that Smith couldn’t help being loud and they walked a lot slower than usual. Each one they passed was a close call.

The building that they reached seemed to be a farmhouse of some sort. It was large and looked old, with white chipped paint covering the walls. The roof and porch had a deep contrasting green color, and a brick chimney protruded out the side of the right wall. The windows were mostly covered with curtains, although besides the old wood that needed some renovation, everything looked intact.

They made it inside easily, lucky that the door was open and unlocked. The minute they stepped inside, they could tell the house belonged to an older couple. Pictures of older and younger children alike lined the walls, as did huge family pictures with children, adults, and seniors. The wallpaper was peeling near the edges of the walls, and was an ugly tan color covered in roses.

The first room they stepped into seemed to be a lounge or study of sorts, with an old leather recliner in the corner surrounded by bookshelves. An old darkwood desk was pushed up against the window, with papers and pens sprawled about and an old green lamp atop it.

“Here put your foot up, I’m going to go clear the house. Sit tight, and scream if anything happens.” Trott led Smith towards the recliner, slipping the backpack from his shoulders before helping him sit down.

The redhead furrowed his eyebrows with concern. “Are you sure you can check a house by yourself?”

“Kinda have to,” Trott shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I’ll scream if anything happens, and you can just try to hobble up there and help me.” He grinned as he spoke, as if it was a joke.

“Why don’t we just stay downstairs or-”

“No,” Trott shook his head. “We’re gonna be here for awhile, whether we find Ross or not. We need to clear it to avoid any accidents. I don’t want anything creeping downstairs if we are sleeping and to bite us.”

Smith sighed, nodding. “Okay, but… Be careful?” His hands were still on Trott’s wrists, his touch gentle yet firm on his skin.

“Of course, mate,” Trott grinned, looking down at Smith and feeling heat rise to his cheeks. There was something about the way his blue eyes looked up at him, full of concern and admiration that just made him all flustered and warm. “You be careful, too.”

“Got my axe,” Smith chuckled, his gaze trailing away towards the weapon on his lap.

“And I’ve got me ol’ trusty shevel,” the brunet laughed, trying for an accent and failing miserably.

The redhead still giggled, more at the ridiculousness of him than the success of his attempt at impressions. His thumbs traced lightly over Trott’s skin, feeling the dirt and hair on his arms along with the soft skin.

“Earth to Smith? You gonna let go now,” Trott questioned, raising a questioning eyebrow down at the redhead.

“Oh uh- y-yeah,” Smith spoke reluctantly, his hands dropping away from Trott’s and instead running up his thighs.

Trott smiled, dropping his bag off his shoulder and letting it thud on the floor. He opened it up, pulling out his shovel. He glanced back at Smith, who was watching him like a child in school too afraid to raise their hand, so they resort to staring at the teacher until they ask if they need help.

“Need something, Smith?”

“Oh… No.” The redhead adverted his gaze, back down to his axe. “Just thinking ‘bout Ross.”

Trott paused as he was beginning to zip up the backpack, taking a deep shuddering breath before standing again. He didn’t reply to Smith’s comment, instead walking towards the doorway that led to the rest of the home.

Smith watched him go, biting his lip to stop himself from saying something he might regret.

~~~

Clearing downstairs was easy. There were few rooms, being that all of them were just large and made for hanging around. The den held an old outdated TV, with what looked like a VHS on top of it. A whole shelf of VHS tapes sat besides it, all of them covered in thick layers of dust. The couch up against the wall looked comfy enough, large with fluffy pillows and a pretty blanket on top for decoration.

The next room over was the kitchen, which was smaller, but held lots of food and outdated kitchen appliances. The pantry was filled with food that didn’t seem to expire, like soups and cans of baked beans. Bags of rice lined the shelves, along with boxes of pasta and cereals. A couple of jugs of water sat on the floor as well.

The stairs that led to the second floor of the home started on the right wall of the den, curling around a closet that was just full of coats and a vacuum. The stairs bled out into a long hallway, with three rooms on either side of the wall.

He went through the first five fairly easy without any troubles. Turned out the second door on the right was a bathroom with bandages, rubbing alcohol, aloe vera, and duct tape.

The last door to the left was the master bedroom. It was large, with a balcony over looking the backyard, which was actually just a small garden of flowers surrounded by chicken wire. A barn could be seen just to the left, quite a ways away, one that Trott hoped could hold some supplies that would be useful to them.

He turned on his heel and went back into the room, examining the nicely made bed and things all stacked and put away. A large vanity sat in the corner near the door which Trott assumed was the closet. It was opened just slightly, although he didn’t think anything of it as he stepped closer to the vanity.

A large pendant was sat on the wooden surface, encrusted with gorgeous diamonds that sparkled in the sunlight of early morning. In the middle, a large green emerald sat, cut to be like half of a sphere. It was smooth and cold under Trott’s fingertips, and he dropped his shovel on the bed in favor of picking it up and examining it. The chain and metal that the jewels sat inside seemed to be silver as opposed to a bright cold, which he supposed just made the jewels stand out more.

He smiled, thinking about how nice it would look on either Ross or Smith. His smile faltered as his mind thought about it, wondering  _why_  that would even come to his mind. None of them wore jewelery, Smith and Ross were both guys that probably wouldn’t touch something like this unless it was a gift for someone else. Even then, though, it would look gorgeous around Ross’ neck. The silver would look beautiful and delicate against his pale skin, and the emerald would bring out the icy blue of his eyes and add more color to his otherwise light skin and dark hair.

“TROTT! TROTT!”

The brunet jumped at the scream, almost dropping the pendant on the soft carpet beneath his feet. His eyes widened when he realized Smith was screaming, and he immediately dropped the pendant back on his table in favor of running downstairs. Panic and dread filled him as he quickly approached the bed, grabbing his shovel and starting towards the door.

Trott was stopped, however, by the sound of creaking behind him. He froze, gulping and turning slowly to watch the closet door that was previously just barely ajar slowly get pulled inward. Gnarled greenish fingers were wrapped around the edge of the wood, and his heart practically stopped as it was pulled open to reveal an infected.

It stood shorter than Trott, hunched over and dressed in a plaid shirt tucked into brown corduroy pants that went up to its bellybutton. The camel toe made sealed the whole “old man” look, along with the nice black dress shoes that adorned its feet.

It groaned when it saw Trott, immediately stumbling forward with it’s skinny arms outstretched and it’s mouth open to reveal it’s disgusting yellow teeth. It’s skin was all wrinkled and hanging off it’s face, and the stench made Trott gag as it came closer.

The brunet immediately took a step back, his ankle hitting the bed and making him jump as he remembered where he was. He held up the shovel, and as the infected approached he swung forward with the bottom of it, hitting on the head with a loud bang and the sickening crack of bone. The blow only made it stumble backwards, although there was a large dent in its head making its left eye and nose sag inwards. Trott stepped forward, swinging again this time with the sharp edge. It got lodged in the side of its head right above its ear, although this time the corpse slumped downwards, once again dead on the floor.

Trott took a deep breath, feeling shaky like he always did when he encountered an infected. His shovel was still stuck in it’s head, and after a couple tugs he had to brace his foot on its shoulder to actually pull it out. It made a disgusting squelching noise as it was pulled free, and the blood that oozed from his head made Trott groan in disgust.

He checked around the room once more, momentarily forgetting about Smith until he heard another shout from downstairs. His eyes widened, and he sprinted out of the room and downstairs as quick as he could.

“SMITH! SMITH ARE YOU OKAY?”

Trott practically leaped off the last three stairs, his feet landing with a thud on the bottom floor. He ran towards the front room where he left Smith, still calling out for the redhead.

When he reached the study, he was completely relieved to see Smith alive. The redhead was sitting forward in the recliner, holding his walkie talkie close and murmuring into it.

“Okay, okay… Fuck, Ross… Thank God you are alright,” he whimpered, smiling happily. His fingers clutched the device almost like it was a lifeline, like he would never want to let go.

“Yeah, for now,” a voice came back quietly through the speaker, somewhat drowned out by static. The voice made relief feel Trott, made his grip on the shovel loosen. “Where’s Trott?”

“He’s-” Smith stopped, turning towards the doorway and looking up to see Trott. His grin stretched from ear to ear, a real grin that made his eyes crinkle in the edges.

“Ross,” Trott exclaimed, running forward and dropping his shovel on the ground. He kneeled by the recliner, his hands grabbing at Smith’s wrists to bring the walkie talkie closer. “Are you alright? What happened? Wh-where are you?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he reassured them. “There was a cellar on the other side of the yard, and I hopped in. The only issue is that it’s dark as fuck, I can’t see shit, and ‘m kinda afraid something might wander towards me.”

“Are there, are… Are there any still above you,” Trott stammered.

“Yeah, shit tons. They are loud little buggers, I hope they’ll wander off soon.”

“Maybe if you’re quiet,” Smith suggested. “We’re gonna come back and get you, Ross-”

“No, not yet,” the dark-haired man interrupted, his voice stern. “It’s too dangerous, there are still a ton here. Hopefully by tomorrow they will wander off, and I can get out… Where did you guys go?”

“A farmhouse off to the west,” Trott supplied. “But, you won’t last long without water. You don’t have shit with you.”

“Maybe I can find something, I-” He was cut off by static, and both Smith and Trott’s hearts dropped.

“Ross! Ross,” Trott shouted.

“Trott, stop shaking the damn thing. He’s fine, he probably doesn’t have good reception in a bloody cellar,” Smith huffed, trying to tug the device back when Trott started shaking his wrists around.

“...found a torch!” Ross cut back in, his voice sounding excited. There was a click from the other line, then a sigh of relief. “It works. Nothing bad is in here… So thank fuck. Lemme see if I can find anything. I’ll call you both back later if I find something okay? Later tonight?”

“Y-yeah, that’d be great, Ross,” Trott nodded, although of course Ross couldn’t see it. “Fuck, please be careful? Don’t die, please? I don’t think Smith and I can live without you.”

“Don’t rip each other’s dicks off, alright,” Ross spoke, and the fact that you could hear the grin in his voice made both Smith and Trott laugh.

“You shoulda seen us a couple hours ago. Trott was going mental on the fence and I was screaming my ass off,” Smith laughed. “But seriously, please come back to us, alright? We’ll talk soon.”

“Of course… Bye guys.”

“Bye,” Smith replied, before taking his finger off the button on his walkie talkie. He glanced back over at Trott, who still had his fingers tightened around his wrists. “Mate, he’s alive!”

“Y-yeah,” Trott nodded, letting out a breath of relief. “Oh thank fuck.” He shook his head, leaning it forward onto the armrest on the chair.

“What took you so long to get down here,” Smith asked curiously. “I heard some thudding up there and got worried.”

“There was a fucker in the closet, snuck up on me while I was looking at a pretty necklace thing… I thought it would look nice on Ross and got distracted,” Trott murmured, flushing at his confession.

“A necklace? Go get it, I wanna see!”

“It’s really pretty, actually. Ross probably wouldn’t like it,” Trott shrugged. “I also found some rubbing alcohol, aloe vera, and duct tape. I’ll bring all that shit down too.”

“Oh fuck yes duct tape,” Smith shouted. “All of our problems are solved!”

“Shut up, duct tape is useful as fuck,” Trott muttered, his fingers loosening on Smith’s wrists as he pouted.

“Of course it is,” Smith grinned. “Fuck, why can’t I stop smiling?”

“Cuz Ross is alive.”

“I already knew he was.”

Trott rolled his eyes. “Because you got a reassurance. You heard his voice, he said he was fine, he said he found a torch… I mean, Smith, we both care a lot about him, of course we’ll be all happy now.”

“Haven’t been this relieved and happy in awhile, even with a broken ankle.”

“ _Sprained_  ankle,” Trott corrected him. “Don’t try to milk it, you’ll be fine. I’ll go find some pillows, and we can move you out into the den because I can sit there with you as opposed to on the floor. We can sleep out there, and… I can bandage you up, and... yeah…”

Smith smirked, looking down at his hands which were still being held by Trott. “What’s up with you and holding hands?”

Trott looked down, immediately jerking away. “Shit, sorry… I-”

“It’s fine,  mate. Didn’t say I didn’t like you talking to me and holding my hand,” Smith murmured with a shit-eating grin on his lips.

Trott’s brow furrowed. “D-don’t be an ass.” He stood up, brushing himself off even though he wasn’t dirty. He quickly turned around and left the room without another word.

~~~

“Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!”

“Stop moving, Smith,” Trott muttered indignantly, pausing in his efforts to wrap up Smith’s foot.

The redhead pouted, trying to stop from moving away from Trott’s touch. He winced when the brunet continued his ministrations to his ankle, wrapping it tightly and carefully. His fingers played with the pendant that hung from his neck.

When Trott showed it to him, his first thought was that if economy was still a thing they would be rich if they sold it. Then he admitted it was really nice, and said that it  _would_  look nice on Ross, somewhat making Trott relieved that he wasn’t going crazy or being too strange.

“Why so tight,” Smith whined.

“So it doesn’t move.”

Smith groaned, throwing his head back onto the couch with a huff. The couch in the den was long enough for one and a half of him to stretch out on, so his head wasn’t even at the very end of it. All of the pillows were used to prop up his foot, and Trott sat on the other side of him trying to tend to it.

“I want a pillow!”

“We are using them for your ankle,” Trott sighed. “Please stop whining, you’re really getting annoying.”

“It hurts though,” he murmured, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I need a pillow.”

“I’ll go get one from upstairs after I’m done with this.”

Their bags were littered on the floor by Trott’s side of the couch, one of them open from when he went in to retrieve the bandages. He finished wrapped it up, pushing down with his palm to make sure it was in place before shoving the remaining bandage back in the bag.

“Okay, it’s early… We slept fuck all, we should sleep,” Trott yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m gonna go grab you that pillow and-” He started standing up, although stopped when Smith interrupted him.

“Wait no!”

Trott looked over at him quizzically. “You just said-”

“Just let me use your lap,” the redhead suggested sheepishly. “We always do that anyway, and I need some cuddles to help my ankle get better…”

The brunet sighed, standing completely but turning to instead sit by Smith. He plopped onto the couch, gesturing for him to sit up. The redhead did so, waiting for Trott to scoot in underneath where his head used to be before leaning back down.

“Ugh! Your trousers are wet,” Smith yelped, sitting up again.

Trott shrugged. “What do you want me to do about it? Take my lap pillow or leave it-”

“Take ‘em off.”

Trott spluttered. “Pardon?”

“Oh stop being all freaked out. I’ve seen you in your boxers before!”

“Smith you are going to be putting your  _head_  in my  _lap_ ,” Trott stressed, raising his eyebrows.

Smith smirked. “What? You afraid you’re gonna get a boner?”

“What? No! But-”

“Warm crotch is better than cold wet denim,” the redhead shrugged, although his face was slightly flushed. It was nothing in comparison to Trott’s though, whose face was bright red from the words that came from Smith’s mouth.

“Why do you have to be so crude,” he huffed, standing from the couch and bending down to untie his boots. He did so somewhat quickly, aware of the extremely “randy” Smith sitting behind him that  _could_  be staring at his ass (although probably not). He slipped them off, standing again before starting to unbutton his jeans. He soon slipped those off too, dropping them on top of his boots before going back to sit down on the couch.

“Wait!”

“What?” He turned to face Smith, raising an eyebrow and putting his hands on either hip. “You are being incredibly annoying right now.”

“At least spread your jeans out mate, so they dry.”

Trott groaned. “Okay, mum.” He bent down again to grab his jeans, picking them up and shaking them so they were all straightened out. He turned to spread them over the back of the couch, although when his eyes met Smith’s that were  _definitely_  gazing at his butt, he paused.

“Smith, what the fuck is wrong with you lately,” Trott asked. He spread his jeans out as he spoke “You are acting insane, and… and really confusing me and your jokes are getting kinda weird and… Why?”

“What do you mean,” Smith questioned, faking innocence.

Trott groaned. “You were definitely just staring at my ass, mate. You wanted me to take off my trousers… You just  _watched_  for fucks sake! And you wanted to hold my hand too!”

Smith flushed, shrugging. “I thought you wanted to hold my hand…”

“I did, but-”

“Am I making you  _really_  uncomfortable or something? Because if I am, I really, really, really am sorry and I didn’t mean to and… I dunno I just wanted to…” His gaze fell down towards the floor instead of looking up at Trott, making the brunet frown.

“Wanted to  _what_ , Smith?”

His answer was delayed, but when he finally spoke it wasn’t exactly what Trott wanted to hear. “Cuddle and stuff.”

“ _Stuff_? What’s  _stff_?”

Smith shrugged. “... I… I’m not sure… Just-”

“I think you  _are_ sure,” Trott spoke. “And you just aren’t telling me. Listen, at this point Smith, you might as well. I can see you’re blushing and you look embarrassed, but you aren’t gonna say anything that will make me hate you or something.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Smith shook his head. He looked up, beaming. “You could never hate me, Trotty Too Hotty.”

“I could if you kept using that nickname,” Trott joked. “But seriously,  _stuff_?”

“...Trott I care about you,  _a lot_. Like, a shit ton, okay? Like, more than I should like one of my best mates,” Smith murmured. “And I dunno if today was what just made me realize this, but as I think back on it… I dunno I always liked getting cuddly with you and Ross and being overly touchy and staring at you guys because you are both really attractive and…”

His words made Trott’s stomach explode with butterflies. His face was flushed, and he was honestly at a loss for words. Smith’s whole figure just looked so appealing in that moment. The sweet words that fell from his lips instead of the usual filth, and the way he looked so genuine and honest. He was all flustered with his fingers fidgeting around the chain of his pendant. He was _vulnerable_ , and for some reason it made Trott smile.

“You probably don’t feel the same way… I get that and…”

Trott slowly stepped closer, getting to his knees in front of the sofa. He got face to face with Smith, making the redhead jump back at their sudden closeness. Trott’s hand slowly went forward to touch Smith’s shoulder which was pushing into the couch. His hand stroked up towards his neck, wrapping around so his fingers were resting on top of his throat.

Smith had stopped talking, and instead was watching Trott with unsure eyes.  His chest moved steadily under his jacket, and yet Trott could feel his fast pulse under his fingertips.

“You wanna kiss me, Smith?”

The redhead licked his lips, nodding silently as his hand came forward to cup Trott’s cheek.  His fingers were gentle as they smoothed over his skin, all calloused from playing guitar a year ago and wielding his axe more recently.

Trott took a deep breath, staring straight into the nebulous depths of Smith’s eyes. He looked just as nervous as him… Who knew kissing your best friend could be so nerve wracking?

After what felt like ages of staring at each other, Smith was the first to move. His eyes fluttered closed and he pulled Trott’s head forward as he tilted his own. Their lips fit together awkwardly at first, pushed together just barely before pulling apart again. They were quick to reconnect, though, Trott turning his head and closing his eyes to focus on the feel of Smith’s lips.

His whole body seemed to implode upon impact, his heart beating faster and his whole body buzzing under his skin as their mouths moved together. Smith’s lips were wet from just licking them, but still chapped due to lack of chapstick. His beard scratched Trott’s skin, and in the moment it seemed to be the thing that made Trott realize that  _he was kissing a guy_ , moreover  _he was kissing Smith._   There was something so gratifying and special about the intimate touch, whether it be the fact that they were kissing  _each other_ , or that their lips felt so good and being so close was such a nice feeling.

Trott was the first to pull back, due to lack of breath. He inhaled as his eyes fluttered open to meet Smith’s so close to his own, and it wasn’t long before he had leaned forward again to resume where they left off.

~~~

“So, how long will my ankle be sprained?”

Trott bit his lip. “When I sprained mine when I was little, I didn’t get my bandages or splint off for a month…”

Smith groaned, leaning his head back on the back of the couch. Trott had moved one of the other chairs to be in front of him, so Smith could sit normally on the couch and have his foot up instead of laying horizontally on it. His foot was balanced on top of the large pile of pillows on the chair, still sore, but somewhat better than yesterday.

“The swelling went down, which is a good sign, but you don’t want to reinjure it.”

“How are we gonna help Ross if I can’t go,” Smith questioned.

“Ross hasn’t even contacted us today, maybe he escaped and is on his way here,” Trott suggested.

Smith rolled his eyes. “Doubt it.” He looked over towards Trott who sat to his left, pressed into his side whilst he read something he got off the shelf of their library. “What’re you reading?”

“Stephen King,” Trott hummed. “ _The Gunslinger_.”

“Is it good,” Smith asked.

Trott nodded. “Haven’t gotten that far yet, but usually Stephen King’s books are good so…”

There were a few moments of blessed silence where Trott could read his book. He knew it wouldn’t last long, so he tried to at least finish up the page he was on before the redhead next to him was bound to get bored and start bugging him again.

“Trooooooooooott.”

The brunet rolled his eyes. “Yes, your highness?”

Smith quirked an eyebrow. “Ooh? Am I a prince?” Trott bit his lip to stop a grin that was tugging at his lips. “Does that make you my servant, Trotty?”

“Don’t have a choice in the matter, Smith. Your ankle is sprained.”

The redhead nodded, bringing his hand up to rub the facial hair on his chin. “Hmmm… Tis the truth, Sir Trottimus… However, if you are my servant, could you do me a favor?”

“I’m not sucking you off,” Trott paused to start reading, but quickly added in before Smith could get in another word, “Or wanking you.”

“Ross would.”

“Ross is Ross, just about as horny as you. Of course he would.”

“Well.. he wouldn’t. Probably doesn’t like me,” Smith shook his head. Trott rolled his eyes again at the comment, thinking Smith sounded like a school girl talking about how she’d never be noticed by her crush. “Trott, you’re the only one left in the world to suck my dick!”

The brunet scoffed. “No- fuck you.”

“Please? Why not?”

“What? N-no.” Trott looked over at the full grown man who was acting more like a child. “Listen, I mean if I liked you back there’s a good chance Ross will too. He likes cuddling as much as we both do…”

“Cuddling can be platonic though.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t for  _us_ , so there’s a big chance it isn’t for Ross either.”

Smith groaned again. “Trott, I’m so bored.”

The brunet sighed. “What do you want me to do about it? Besides sucking you off or wanking you off.”

“Trott, I bet you’d like it if you tried it.”

“Mate, I’ve wanked myself and had a blowie before I know I like it, I just…”

“Okay, okay, fine I’m sorry for pressing you,” Smith surrendered, raising his hands like he was giving up. “Can I at least give you a hickey though, so when you see Ross-”  
  


Trott’s eyes widened. “No! Of course not!”

“Please?”

“No. We can’t be so immature in these situations, Smith. We never know when-”

“Hello? Hello? Any of you guys there?” Ross’ voice backed by static cut into their conversation, coming from the  walkie talkie to the right of Smith. The redhead immediately reached for it, pressing the button to answer.

“Yes? Ross? Hello?”

“Ah, Smith. Nice to hear your voice. Where’s Trott,” Ross asked.

“Here,” Trott called when Smith pushed the button for him. “How’s it going mate?”

“They aren’t as loud anymore, so I’m assuming some of them wandered away,” Ross explained. “I’m not sure, but… might be our best chance. There’s no water in here, and I can’t last very long without it…”

“You want me to come get you tonight?”

“Tomorrow morning, when they are starting to settle down. If I’m able to, I can hop the fence if they are distracted, and then we can run back to the place you are staying at,” Ross muttered. “That’s the best plan I’ve come up with at this point.”

“Honestly, that’s a great plan. If it means getting you back to us as soon as possible, I’m all in,” Smith murmured.

“Smith, you can’t even do anything with your ankle. You don’t have anything to put in.”

“I’m putting  _you_  in, Trotty. Like a dog fight, ya know,” Smith laughed, making barking sounds afterwards that made Trott roll his eyes and groan.

“I need your help, Ross,” Trott whispered.

Ross laughed through the walkie talkie. “I’d love to give it to you, mate.”

At his words Smith burst out laughing, his eyes closing as he doubled over himself. “Really, Ross? Wanna give it to him up the bum? BAM BAM BAM RAM RIGHT INTO HIM?” He gritted his teeth as he spoke.

“Wow, Smith… You sound, happy,” Ross commented, sounding confused. It was almost like the old days, like a recording for a video, “What happened while you guys were there? Was he able to get a wank in or something?”

Trott shook his head. “Dunno what his deal is. He’s been acting weird since we left.” The lie made Smith’s brow furrow next to him, and the redhead stared at him quizzically, as if asking why he was lying.

“Hmm,” Ross nodded. “Well, Trott, phone me- or… you know what I mean, radio me when you’re coming tomorrow. Then again when you get close.” Smith started giggling again, although he tried to muffle it with his hands.

“Ross, you did it again,” Trott sighed.

“What’d he do? Play with your heart? Got lost in the game,” Smith quipped, laughing at his own comment while the other two stayed silent.

“You’re missing out, Ross. A non-salty Smith.”

“Didn’t know that existed,” Ross scoffed, smile apparent in his voice. “Listen, I’ll see you both tomorrow… Good night, I guess… Wait what time is it?”

“Like noon,” Trott supplied.

“Well, good day then,” Ross nodded. It sounded like he was going to say something else, but then the radio cut off.

“Trott, you really gotta go by yourself?”

“Yeah. We can’t leave Ross,” Trott murmured, shaking his head. “We have to.”

Smith sighed, wrapping his arm around Trott’s shoulder to pull him closer. “Yeah, I know.”

~~~

“Okay, so I have placed all the stuff so it is in reach if you should need it,” Trott hummed, gesturing towards the bags that were spread out towards the right side of Smith. Trott had stuffed a smaller bright purple backpack he found upstairs with some food and water and bandages, just in case things went bad.

Smith nodded, his eyes scanning the bags and the two weapons that would be left with him. “If anything wanders in, I’m gonna radio you, okay?”

“I would hope you would,” Trott nodded. “Be safe?”

“Why you telling me this? I’m holding up in this quiet ass house, you’re the one about to go risk your life,” Smith muttered, reaching up towards the brunet who stood to the left of him.

Trott sighed, leaning down to wrap his arms around Smith. They stayed in a warm embrace, Smith’s chin resting on Trott’s shoulder. He sighed, turning his head to place a chaste kiss on the skin of his neck.

“You come back, alright?”

Trott pulled away from the hug, nodding and trying to reassure Smith with a grin. “Of course.”


	3. Separated

“Hey. Ross, can you hear me?” Trott let go of the button on the side of the walkie talkie, keeping the device close to his ear as he approached the picket fence once again. They had gotten away with no rain for the last two nights, so finally everything seemed to be starting to dry up once again. **  
**

His boots no longer squelched in the mud, nor did they get stuck, but they still left little imprints on the soft ground. The chill of the wind was still there, making him shiver out in the open.

The sun was just visible overhead, peeking out behind the grey clouds and casting a yellowish light over the gloom. He didn’t hear the loud moaning and groaning like before. Now it was just the occasional grunt or moan, and the occasional sound of shuffling from the lazy creatures.

As he advanced towards the fence, he got more careful with each footstep and each noise he decided to make. He didn’t want to risk provoking another horde and end up worsening the chances for Ross.

The delay in response worried Trott at first. He kept telling himself that Ross was fine, that he was just trying to be quiet. It didn’t really help the nagging feeling in his stomach and the heaviness in his chest as he reached the thin layer of wood between him and the vicious creatures that could tear him to pieces.

“Ross, hello? I’m here,” he whispered into the device, carefully changing the volume to low so that when Ross did answer it wouldn’t raise any suspicion.

“Yeah, sorry,” Ross replied, his voice low as well and seemingly muffled by something. “You are by the fence?”

“Yes,” Trott replied.

“Can you peek over, see how many there are,” Ross questioned. “See if I’m clear to run to the next yard over or towards the street or wherever.”

“One second.” Trott clipped the walkie talkie back to his belt. He looked up at the fence, sizing it up to see how high he would have to lift himself to see over it. He stepped close to the wood so that his chest was pushed up against it. He mentally counted himself down, before jumping as high as he could. His shovel clinked against the cans of food in his backpack as he jumped and failed to grip the top.

The brunet sighed, dropping the backpack in front of him with a huff of irritation at his height. He kicked it so it was up against the fence, then carefully stepped on it with his left foot. Using it as a boost, he hopped upwards, this time able to get his fingers to wrap around the top of the fence. His palm and fingers burned in pain due to trying to pull himself upwards and the fact that the wood was digging into his skin. He was able to pull himself up to his chin, and get a somewhat good view over the yard.

There were only about ten left moping about, most of them attracted towards the left side of the fence where Ross was. The right side was wide open, although he had no clue if any of them were still inside or possibly around the front of the house. He hopped down with a hiss, rubbing his sore fingers on the side of his jeans before reaching for his walkie talkie.

“There’s about ten back there, most of them gathered towards where you are. I don’t know how many are around the front though, so your best bet is hopping back over the way we were trying to yesterday,” Trott reported.

There was silence before the static cut in along with Ross’ voice. “Okay… If I open the door though, they will come pouring in on top of me. I’m going to need a minute to climb outta here.” Trott slipped the backpack back over his shoulders as he listened to Ross, absentmindedly pulling the shovel from his bag and holding it in his left hand.

“Let me check if there are any around the front,” Trott murmured into the walkie talkie, before clipping it back onto his belt.

He walked towards the next house over towards the right, hoping that the fence would be mostly intact and he could use it to his advantage. He held his shovel up in a defensive position when he saw the large piece of fence that had fallen in on itself, bringing down half of it.

Trott easily stepped over it, getting into the backyard of the house. It seemed to be an exact replica of the one that Ross was trapped in, with a cellar on the left side and the size seemed to be exactly the same. Everything seemed to be somewhat well-kept, although plants had started growing up the sides of the home.

He ignored it in favor of going towards the left side of the yard, happy that the fence on that side was intact. He dropped his backpack and shovel once again, repeating the actions he did before so he could look over the fence.

Again his fingers ached as he did so, but he was able to get a glimpse over towards the other yard. The fence on the right side seemed to be perfectly intact, and from what he could see there were no creatures roaming about on this side. He could also see some of the creatures still slumped against the fence in the front of the house.

He hopped down, putting his backpack back on and reaching for his walkie talkie to report back to Ross. “Mostly clear on the right side. There are some in the front of the house, which makes my original plan somewhat more difficult.”

“What was your original plan,” Ross questioned.

“I was hoping to draw them over to the right side, but since the fence is intact and there’s no real way to avoid the ones in the front… I might have to run through the streets..."

“How would you get back to the fence, then,” Ross questioned. “You’d have to trail ‘em through the whole city and then run back to us.”

“Just a slight detour,” Trott shrugged, although he felt the nervousness tug at his stomach. “When I pull them all, and they start chasing me, you can get out of the cellar and hop the fence the same way Smith and I left the other day. You just keep running straight through the fields and eventually you’ll find where we were. I’ll run down the street and go around the block. From there, I can run back to you both in the farmhouse.”

Ross seemed to hesitate before speaking again. “I don’t… Like that idea very much.”

Trott raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“ _You_  by  _yourself_  trailing a bunch of the fuckers down the street of a populated city… Then towards  _us_ ,” Ross murmured.

“Well, maybe I can go back around and lose them before I head back for you guys-”

“No, that’s even worse,” Ross interrupted, a sigh escaping his lips. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Trott. That’s dangerous.”

“Everything is dangerous,” Trott replied. He began to size up the fence again, thinking of how fast he would have to run to get around to the other side. “Listen, it’ll be fine. If there are too many, I’ll trail ‘em around a bit. I’m a fast runner, mate, and if anything happens I got my walkie talkie.”

“Trott, maybe we shouldn’t-”

“No, Ross,” Trott spoke. “I’m not leaving you here to die of dehydration or some shit like that. I’m not letting you die without seeing me or Smith again, alright? You’re gonna get out of there, if that’s the last thing I do.”

“That’s what I’m worried about, though. Trott, you’re sacrificing your life for me when hell, I might die trying to get out of here. You have a better chance of going back to Smith, and taking care of his ankle, and…”

“Hey, I said goodbye to Smith.  _You_  didn’t, and you didn’t say it to me either. You aren’t gonna anyway. There’s no need to, cuz you’ll see us both again.”

“T-Trott… I can’t let you risk your life-”

“Ross Hornby,” Trott hesitated, thinking over his words. “Just shut up, alright? Stop trying to get me to back out, because I’m not gonna. Smith is waiting for both of us, and he’ll see both of us.”

There was no response from Ross for a moment, and those few seconds the moment lasted seemed to be the longest of Trott’s life.

“What- I need to know when you’ve drawn them away and it’s safe to come up,” Ross replied back, his voice sounding much more stoic and nervous than before.

“I’ll yell to get their attentions,” Trott shrugged. “When you stop hearing footsteps above you, just go.”

“O-Okay… Are you going to do it now,” Ross questioned. Trott could hear shuffling on the other end as he spoke.

“Yeah,” Trott breathed out. “You radio me when you’re safe.”

“Same to you.”

There was a heavy silence between them, both of them pushing the buttons on their walkie talkies to speak, filling the channel with radio static.

“D-do you think Smith is listening to th-this,” Ross stammered finally, breaking the tense silence.

Trott chuckled under his breath, nodding his head although nobody could see it. “He definitely is. He’s probably crying his eyes out as well.”

Ross laughed loudly over the line, and although it seemed somewhat forced, it made Trott’s heart flutter to hear his laugh. It was loud and outrageous a lot of the time, but it was such a memoir to when everything was normal and he would laugh at video games, that Trott never minded.

“B-be safe, Ross,” Trott whispered.

“You too,” Ross replied, before the static cut off completely and once again Trott felt like he was alone.

He took a deep breath, mostly to just calm himself somewhat before he went running out there with a fucking shovel to defend himself. His heart pounded in his chest with anticipation as he walked around the other side of the yard, hoping to find a gate or something so he could get onto the street.

When he didn’t, he internally groaned as he instead went back towards where he stood before. His eyes locked onto the back door of the house, and he approached it hoping it was unlocked and he wouldn’t have to break a window. It luckily was, and it opened with a loud creak.

The newfound light of the morning bled into the dark room of the house, casting shadows on the large plant pots that lined the back door and other objects that were caught in it’s brightness. Trott’s fingers tightened around his shovel, determined to find a quick way towards the front yard and hoping not to alert anything that was inside the house.

The back door immediately led into a dining room of sorts, with a nice large table covered in a deep red cloth. Silverware was set out nicely on top of it, a nice candelabra as the center piece. The candles had obviously burned out long ago, and for a moment Trott dared to think back to the people that lived here. They were probably planning a fancy dinner or something, setting a nice table only to be interrupted by the news alerting everyone to the trouble at hand. How disappointing would it be to be sitting there in formal clothes, none of the guests arriving because they were scared shitless of going outside?

He continued through the dining room, through a kitchen and then out into the main hallway. It was almost creepy walking through it, walking through the darkness that was decorated with pictures of family and art.

Each open door he caused a feeling of anxiety to wash over him, causing him to carefully peek inside to be sure nothing was there. He passed through easily, not having to chop anything’s head off.

When he reached the front door, he paused, his fingers hesitating over the brass doorknob. He took a deep shuddering breath, closing his eyes and thinking of what he was about to do. He was about to save  _Ross_ , one of his best friends. He was irreplaceable, and he  _refused_  to let him die of starvation alone in some dark cellar.

He turned the doorknob, the door creaking open and revealing the street. the road was empty in front of him, although the quiet groans from next door could be heard just barely, as well as shuffling. Trott cocked his head to the left, eyes scanning the house that was his main target.

The creatures slumped over around the right side of the fence were either in some strange hibernation that came with the daytime or just lounging lazily about. He took another deep breath, straightening himself before stepping out of the home onto the porch. He continued on, his boots thudding on the wood of the porch and then the cement of the path that led through the grassy yard.

He walked as silently as possible, crossing the street to avoid any unwanted attention at first. Trott practically walked on his tiptoes, wincing each time his backpack shifted on his back or each time a breath that left his lips was unusually loud.

From across the street, he was able to see the broken down fence on the left where Ross was. Only a few of the infected could be seen outside the fence, however there were more gathered inside bending over and growling at something. He assumed that something was the cellar, and that possibly Ross made a noise to alert them that he was indeed still alive.

That’s when he screamed. His voice was scratchy and deep, but he tried to scream as loud as he could towards the creatures. He approached slowly, watching as their otherwise uninterested glazed over looks turned to him. He saw them start making their ways over, curious with a new look of hunger in their eyes.

“THAT’S RIGHT MOTHER FUCKERS, COME GET ME,” he yelled, his voice echoing off of the empty streets. He waved his shovel over his head for emphasis, continuing to yell profanities at the monsters as they all drew closer and closer.

He peeked behind the figures that were closing in, seeing that the last of them were clearing the yard. He had about twenty of them coming for him, some of them in clumps, others limping over on their own.

Behind them, he saw the cellar doors were now clear. They swung open, both of them bouncing upon impact with hitting the wood they rested upon. A sigh of relief left his lips when he saw Ross starting to hoist himself up, struggling slightly in the hurry to get up and out of there before any of them noticed.

Ross turned his head to stare at him, his eyes wide and looking desperate as they searched for Trott. When the dark-haired man saw him, surrounded by the stupid creatures as he screamed louder and louder, he immediately felt the need to run towards him.

“JUST RUN,” Trott shouted towards him, over the noises of groans that just got louder and louder.

Ross licked his lips, opening his mouth to say something, but closing it again due to worry of something hearing. He just nodded, saying something that Trott couldn’t hear, before he started to jog towards the back fence of the yard. Trott watched him go, his eyes glancing between his friend hoisting himself over the fence, and back to the approaching monsters that hungered for his flesh.

Ross only looked back once more, and when he did so, his eyes seemed to widen. He screamed loudly for Trott to hear, most of the words rushed jumbles that didn’t make sense. Some of the infected looked back towards Ross, although none of them seemed to care when they had Trott right in front of him.

Ross screamed again, and this time, Trott could make out some of the words. “BEHIND YOU!”

Trott turned, eyes widening when he saw three infected incredibly close behind him. They snarled at him, arms outreached and eager to pull bits and pieces out of him. As the closest one approached, Trott shoved him back with all his might, the handle of his shovel pressing into his chest and sending him stumbling backwards.

Trott glanced back, with Ross now gone over the side of the fence. The group of twenty infected seemed to grow, looking more like thirty or forty to Trott. He searched for a gap to run through as they closed in, starting to form a semicircle around him.

He glanced towards the left, where he said he’d run so he could get around the block and back out onto the field. Without hesitating, he ran, pulling his right hand away from his shovel and just sprinting with all his might down the street.

His eyes widened upon noticing the clumps of creatures coming from houses or coming around the side of the street. His heart thudded fast in his chest as he ran as fast as he could away from the growling monsters that would follow him relentlessly for miles.

~~~

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he ran through the fields. His lungs burned as he choked down sobs and his whole body threatened to collapse in on itself. His heart pounded loud enough in his chest for him to hear, along with his footsteps on the ground and the sound of dead crops and weeds under him as he continued along.

Trott said to the West, to go directly back from the fields. So he tried, he wanted to keep going and get to Smith as soon as possible as he fought his instincts to go back for Trott. His mind was racing, seeing the amount of them crowded there and ready to dig into him.

He had been sprinting to the fields for at least ten minutes now. His whole body ached with exhaustion and malnourishment, being that he hadn’t drunk or eaten anything for the last twenty-four hours. His stomach growled relentlessly, a constant reminder of the ache he felt and could do nothing about. His throat was unbearably dry, and his tongue felt like it could fall out with the lack of usual wetness in his mouth.

Ross stopped running, his shoulders slumping forward as he stared at the ground. Each of his breaths were heavy and hard to leave his lungs, and each gasp of air made his mouth even drier. His shoes were caked with dirt, the leather peeling off from the toes of his boots.

With fumbling hands he pulled his walkie talkie from his belt. The fact that his hands were visibly shaking as he pushed the button made him feel sick and somewhat worried, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse and his throat burned.

“T-Trott? A-re you ‘right,” he murmured, harsh coughs following his voice.

There was no reply, and it made his whole body stiffen with worry. “Trott? C-can you hear m-me,” he rasped out, desperation tinging his voice. Again there was no reply, and when he felt the tears falling down his cheek his let his eyes flutter close with certain worry filling his stomach.

“S-Smith? Please answer, I-I need you,” Ross whispered, his lips practically pressed up against the walkie talkie as he spoke. Then when he got no reply from Smith, he felt the worry rise in his throat. “A-Alex, p-please I need you to-”

“Ross? Ross, what’s wrong, where’s Trott?”

Ross let out a broken sigh of relief, his voice getting caught in his throat at the sound of Smith’s voice.

“Oh Smith, th-thank fuck… I… I thought… S-Smith,” Ross whimpered, holding back the need to cry.

“Ross, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m fine. Are you okay?”

Ross nodded, letting out a strangled hum of confirmation, his teeth sinking into his chapped lips.

“And Trott?”

“We got s-separated… He went through the town I-I think… Had a bunch on him,” Ross whispered. “I shoulda gone back-”

“You didn’t have anything to fight with, that would’ve been suicide, Ross. Trott will be fine, has he answered on the walkie talkie?”

“N-No. Maybe he just can’t stop or something,” Ross nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s fine. Ross, where are  _you_  though, you sound terrible, mate.”

“I’m dehydrated and starving, my throat hurts so bad,” Ross croaked out, shaking his head. “I need water, I-I need y-you.”

“Maybe I can come get you-”

“No! No, it’s… It’s fine. Your ankle is still fucked you can’t,” Ross shook his head.

Smith murmured. “Mate, at this rate we can’t risk you passing out, out there.”

“I’ll be fine. I think I’m close, I mean, Trott said it was only a couple miles, right?”

“Something like that, but, if you feel like you’re getting really light-headed, please call me, alright?”

Ross nodded. “Of course, Smith. L-listen, I’m gonna keep walking, alright. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

“Okay. Be careful,” Smith muttered gently. “When you’re close to the farmhouse, call me and I’ll meet you, alright?”

“O-okay… Thank you, Smith.”

Smith’s response was delayed. “F-for what, mate?”

“It’s, it’s just nice to hear your voice.”

There was another pause, before Smith answered. His grin was audible in his voice, and it made Ross somewhat happy thinking about how the redhead looks when he smiles.

“It’s nice to hear your’s too, Ross,” Smith replied. “Seeing you again will be even better. We gotta lot to talk about-”

There was a distinct sound of knocking on Smith’s line, and when the radio cut off, Ross’ stomach sunk.

“Smith? Smith what’s that?”

“Something is at the door,” Smith murmured, his voice low. “Hey, I’ll call you back in a minute, Ross… I’m gonna see what that is…”

The static cut off, leaving the dark-haired man alone once again. He took a breath, ignoring the pain in his stomach, and continued on his way, using the thought of seeing Smith again as an incentive to keep going.

~~~

Ross’ trek through the fields took longer than expected. Each step was a struggle, and each breath made his lungs burn. His lips were ablaze from the lack of water in his system, and every time he licked his lips his skin just stung.

Each time he thought he might pass out he just thought of Smith, thought of the stupidly attractive smile of his and his sweet voice that brought comfort to him. He thought of his warm arms, of falling asleep  _safely_  next to him and being able to sleep peacefully for days without worries of some creature busting into the cellar to kill him. He thought of the long red hair he could comb his fingers through and beg to cut (although he secretly loved it). It fueled each step he took towards his safety, knowing that Smith would be waiting for him with open arms and food and water.

Upon seeing the house on the horizon, a great amount of happiness swept through him, giving air to his lungs. He sprinted, or at least tried to. His muscles burned terribly and his head was pounding to the point that he thought someone was hitting him with a hammer. His “sprint” was more like a somewhat fast stumble towards the house, a jog with unsteady steps that sometimes almost made him fall.

As he approached the house, the thankful smile on his lips faded and was replaced with worry upon noticing that the door was wide open. His footsteps faltered, but the fear that something happened made him run even faster. Suddenly his hunger and thirst was forgotten, replaced with the need to make sure Smith was safe.

“SMITH,” he screamed as he entered the house, stopping at the front door and leaning inside. His eyes immediately fell upon a dead infected on the floor, its head deformed and oozing blood from where a clear indent with an axe was made.

Ross bent down next to the creature, staring at it’s bloodshot eyes and open mouth. It’s teeth were rotten and gnarled, covered in red and other things Ross didn’t really want to think about. The blood that wept from its wound was still wet, creating a puddle on the ground. It must’ve happened recently.

“ALEX,” he called, standing and moving to close the front door behind him. He walked through the house, passing through the study and instead finding himself in a den area. The recliner pushed against the couch was still there, although the pillows that were once piled there had fallen over onto the ground. All of their bags were still there, the only thing missing was Smith and his axe.

He gulped, taking a step forward into the room, looking around for any signs that he was still here. It wasn’t too difficult to put two and two together, figuring the knock at the door was some ravenous creatures searching for flesh. Smith had gone to deal with it, possibly assuming it was a human, and instead finding himself to face an infected. At least he wasn’t stupid enough to leave his axe where he couldn’t reach it.

Ross found himself sitting on the couch, burrowing his face in his hands and trying to calm himself. Both of them couldn’t be gone. No… this wasn’t fair. He couldn’t even cry at this point, still too dehydrated to be going around like he was right now.

He sat back, taking a deep shuddering breath as his mind processed what had just happened. Smith was  _gone_ , possibly chased off by another infected that decided to accompany his friend that was now dead.

“I gotta find him,” he rasped, his voice still barely there. Ross was suddenly reminded of his thirst and hunger, and bit his lip. Smith couldn’t get far on a sprained ankle, although if something was chasing him… “No- Ross. It won’t do anybody good if you can’t walk two meters without passing out.”

Ross went for the larger backpack, quickly opening it and reaching for a can of beans. He struggled to pull the tab to open it, but managed, using his fingers to scoop out the cold wet vegetables.

The taste made him moan, although plain and disgusting to others, it tasted like heaven on his tongue. He leaned his head back and finished the can, happy to satisfy his growling stomach. His body relaxed into the couch, and he drank two water bottles with ease.

He allowed himself to block out the thoughts of Smith’s whereabouts for just a moment to get a grip on things. He was still exhausted, that was for sure, his eyes already drooping closed and his mind clouded with promises of rest.

Of course he knew he couldn’t, and within moments he had stood. He zipped up the food backpack, slinging it over his left shoulder. The tools backpack went on his right, and the smaller medical bag rested in the crook of his left elbow. He held his bat in his right hand as he exited the house.

Upon leaving the shelter, he was hit with a cool breeze. He sighed, biting his lips and tightening his grip on his bat. His feet pounded on the wooden steps of the porch, and the rotten wood creaked under each footfall.

A puddle of drying mud was at the bottom of the porch steps, something he hadn’t noticed initially upon entering. He bent down, studying the somewhat dried mud. In it, he could see two pairs of footsteps going towards the left. His eyes widened,  _Smith and the infected fucker that was following him._

He bit his lip and continued onwards. The sun high in the sky was blocked by clouds that formed overhead, making everything a bit chilly.

Ross’ mind kept drifting to Smith as he walked along, checking the ground for more tracks in between looking up and hoping to see him walking over the horizon. Out of habit, he checked behind himself for any infected that happened to be wandering about.

It was strange without Smith and Trott beside him. Every now and then he’d look up and open his mouth to speak to them, only to close it again when he realized they weren’t there. He felt so empty and alone, without Smith making dirty jokes or being his touchy self. Or without Trott, without the way he would tug on Ross’ sleeve or always have some sort of contact when he talked to him, as if he needed to do so to get his attention. He missed Trott’s deep voice asking things so quietly, and when he was scared how he would always cuddle up a bit more. He missed when Smith would hum a song, and neither him or Trott would bother telling him to stop because it sounded so nice and made everything seem almost normal.

Without it, all he could hear was the occasional bug buzzing near his ear or bird flying overhead. The wind sifted through the trees that surrounded the edges of the fields, and the crops that were planted in the field crunched under his feet. They were all wilted, mostly covered in tall weeds that stood tall and proud among the corpses of plants.

He hoped he would find a barn of some sort soon, where Smith might’ve stopped… Although he seriously doubted that if he was being chased.

The poor guy must be exhausted. He had a sprained ankle, and was hobbling along with a dirty fucker chasing him. At least he had means of protection, but Ross still worried about him. Hell, his mind was still worried about Trott, who still hadn’t radioed him no matter how many times he would try.

It was impossible for him to already be out of range, right? There’s no way he could get that far that fast, unless he was still being chased.

Ross bit his lip. It was a possibility, of course. There had been quite a lot on him when he last saw the brunet, and if there’s a lot, there’s less of a chance of them stopping. If anything, the amount chasing him could’ve just increased.

“Shit,” he whispered to himself, glancing back again to make sure nothing was there. There was still nothing, although he didn’t feel very safe and sure walking by himself.

After a mile, his arms and back started to ache from holding all of their supplies. He could feel the sweat on his back and armpits, making his t-shirt stick to his skin and his jacket utterly unnecessary with the heat he was producing. It was a lot, but they needed it all. It was how they survived, they lived off of this. He couldn’t just leave it there. There was a good chance that when he found Smith (which he knew he would), he could be injured and without food or water. He needed this stuff, they all needed this stuff to survive. He hoped Trott had some stuff on him… That he wasn’t the only one with all of these supplies.

He looked behind him again, narrowing his eyes when he saw nothing was following him.

_Stop being so paranoid… Jesus, Ross. They are fine, you know it. Smith is fine, he can handle himself. He can handle that axe like he was born to do it… And Trott can run fast! You’ll see them sooner than you think_.

An hour or so passed, of him walking along. Every now and then, he felt himself slow down. The weight of the supplies was really killing him, making his back ache and his legs feel sore. It probably wasn’t the best, considering he hadn’t slept for awhile and that his whole body was almost numb from running on fumes.

He continued on, still on the look out for Smith. He almost expected for Trott to come and run up behind him, to place a hand on his shoulder and turn him around to hug him. He could imagine his deep voice, the way he would clutch his shirt and how his head would fit into his chest right under his shoulder. Or even if he saw Smith, how the taller man would wrap him into a bear hug and they would laugh and curse as they embraced.

Ross stopped again, checking behind himself before he kept going.

~~~

Ross almost wanted to cry when he saw the large barn at the edge of the horizon, outlined by the sun as it started to set. He was exhausted, and needed  _somewhere_  to sit down and rest. And if this was where he could, he would be totally up for it.

He continued onwards, lugging along all of their supplies. Part of him really hoped Smith was in there waiting for him, that he had managed to take care of the zombie following him.

As he approached the barn, he got more and more worried about what was inside. A lot of it was collapsing in on itself, with wooden boards and metal panels put in the fill holes and support walls that were leaning away from the roof. It was long, with different farm equipment parked outside, all of them rusted up to the point where any use would be impossible.

The fields stopped at a wide dirt road, one with multiple tire tracks still faintly visible, as well as foot prints. On the other side of the road, there was a bunch of overgrown grass, the bright green mixed with the weeds that tangled themselves throughout.

He bit his lip, looking all around him for any signs of infected or Smith. There seemed to be no real movement, besides the birds or the objects that moved naturally in the wind.

Ross walked across the road cautiously, clutching his baseball bat tighter in his hands as he went up to the barn. The doors in the front were closed, luckily without a padlock or anything like that. Ross set down the medical bag and his bat, instead focusing on pulling open the large wooden door.

His calloused fingertips dug into the wood as he yanked on what looked like a door handle. The wood and hinges of the door creaked in protest, probably rusted, but he somehow managed to open it just enough so he could slip inside.

He sighed happily, peeking his head in and peering into the darkness. Light spilled in through a hole on the roof, illuminating a couple stalls where animals might’ve been kept. A loft lined the walls, a way to store hay and other boxes and bags that were soggy with water.

Ross sighed, taking a step back and bending down to grab the medical bag. He chucked it through the door, the other two bags on his shoulders following. He groaned with relief as the weight lifted from his shoulders, allowing for him to stand up straight and crack his neck. He leaned down once again to grab his bat, and just as the metal touched his fingertips, he heard a growl behind him.

His eyes widened, and as a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder he turned, his bat in his right hand swinging with him. Ross wretched himself from the infected’s grasp, eyes wide and in slight shock as he stared at the creature.

It snarled, yellow eyes following Ross’ every movement and it stepped forward again. The dark-haired man backed away from it as his left hand came to grasp the bat. He positioned his hands and pulled back, getting enough of a charge up to swing forward with enough force.

The bat hit the infected in the chin with a thunk, cracking bone and making it stumble backwards. It steadied itself, looking at Ross with a murderous glare as it continued growling with yearning for Ross’ flesh. Its jaw was definitely broken, hanging away from the rest of it’s skull in a disgusting manner. Ross took a deep breath, this time taking a couple steps forwards as he again swung, this time hitting it square in the cheek and cutting skin and bone alike. The thunk of metal on bone was accompanied by the splat of blood as it made contact. The corpse spun from the force of the hit, before dropping limp to the ground.

Ross laughed triumphantly, staring down at the creature with pride.

“Eat shit, mother fucker,” he uttered with bitterness, mostly to himself. He spat on its corpse before turning on his heel to head back towards the barn. His eyes widened, when he was faced with three other corpses, limping forwards with sickening moans of agony and greed for his blood.

Ross took a step backwards, carefully avoiding the corpse on the floor with wide eyes. He gulped, grasping his bat again and standing more defensively.

The one that was closest, looked skinny and weak. It’s pale skin and thin grey hair made it apparent it had been without a meal for awhile, and it’s skinny arms made Ross internally grimace. He pulled his arms back, and when it got close enough, he swung, hitting it square in the head. It fell to the floor with a dent in its forehead, eyes wide and once again lifeless.

Ross turned towards the other two, realizing that these too looked much larger and stronger than the other. They came towards him faster, both of them right next to each other with hunger being the only thing on their mind.

The light was quickly fading away, casting dark shadows over the fields as the night approached. If Ross didn’t hurry, he’d be a goner. Attracting too many could end everything, trapping him up inside the barn until they all broke through and tried to murder him.

He shook the thought from his mind, instead focusing on the growling beast in front of him. He lined up a swing, and went for it, hitting it in the neck with great force, although not doing much. It just growled, although the chunk taken  from the side of it’s throat made Ross wince. He swung again, being just as much of a fail as the last as he hit it in the shoulder. It did make it stumble backwards, although the other one approaching was already much too close for comfort.

He took a step back, licking his lips with anticipation. He checked behind him, thanking unknown forces that there was nothing sneaking up on him. When Ross looked back, they were both much closer, maybe only a couple inches away.

He yelped, his hands coming out to push the largest one backwards with all of the strength he could muster. As he pushed it back, he took a step forward, putting all of his force into shoving it over. It fell onto it’s butt, letting out a groan of protest as it hit the grass.

Ross was quick to swing wildly at the other creature, although without his left hand the swing was random and it hit it right in the stomach. It moaned, taking more steps closer as Ross resumed backing up.

The dirt crunched under his shoes as he reached the road, once again checking behind himself to be sure there was nothing coming. The infected he had pushed down had once again stood, although far enough away where it wasn’t an immediate issue.

Ross took another step back, wrapping his left hand around the handle and swinging again. This time, he hit it in the face, splattering it’s blood towards himself. He grimaced as the fluids hit him, the scent of rotten flesh hitting his nose and almost making him want to vomit. The corpse had slumped down though, defeated by his weapon.

He looked back towards the other, that was quickly approaching with newfound adrenaline due to the darkness. The sun’s peak was just barely over the horizon at this point, the sky painted a deep purple with stars already shining through.

In the darkness, Ross couldn’t see the figure very well. He could make out roughly where the body stopped and it’s neck began, and he hoped that was enough.

He waited for it to get closer, squaring it up as he brought the bat to his shoulder and raised his elbow. He felt like a baseball player as he stood there, and when the thing got close he put all of his might into the swing. It hit the infected right in the side of the head, and with a loud metallic thump it fell to it’s knees.

Ross’ shoulders slumped forward, breathing heavy and labored as he stood there in the chill of the night. The stars above him twinkled happily in the darkness, and without any other light to stop it, they shined brightly through the atmosphere.

The moon was half of a bright circle tonight, reminding Ross of the Cheshire Cat’s smile.

The dark-haired man walked back towards the barn, his eyes scanning for anything coming towards him in the darkness and his ears carefully listening for any extra footsteps or groans.

His heart was still beating heavily, his whole body throbbing under his skin as he went back to the barn. He closed the door behind him, sighing as he sat down against the wall next to the door.

The bags he had thrown in here lazily before were still strewn on the floor, and he almost didn’t want to have to get up and grab them. He did, though, after a while of contemplating the dangers of not eating without intaking anymore fluids.

He lined the bags on the wall next to him, the food closest so he could grab some water and a can of beans. He opened it with the can opener, using a torch to light up what he was doing. He ate quickly in the darkness, taking down large gulps of water between each bite.

His heartbeat and breathing slowly went back to normal, although he still felt on edge as he sat in the darkness. After he finished eating, he sat back, leaning his head against the wood of the barn and sighing deeply.  He weighed the consequences of leaving the torch on all night, and in the end decided against it.

Ross leaned forward to flick it off, yawning as sleep tugged at his eyelids. He made sure his bat rested in his lap, his right hand grasped on the handle as he sat waiting for sleep to come, thoughts of Smith and Trott drifting through his mind.


	4. Alone...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, just a warning for drowning this chapter. Stuff happens at a river :/

He had never run so much in his life.

His lungs were on fire, and he felt as if somebody dropped hot coals down his throat. His whole body was impossibly warm, making him feel uncomfortably sticky. His feet hit the ground with steady thuds, each one shaking him to his core and making his already aching legs feel more shocks of pain. Sweat dripped down his body like a waterfall, almost endlessly and making all of his clothes stick to his skin. He didn’t bother brushing the fringe out of his eyes, not with the moans and groans behind him that haven’t seem to let up in a while.

Trott wasn’t sure exactly how long he had been running, if it was only for a few minutes, but he swore it felt like hours. His fingers were sweaty, blistered from holding the wooden handle of the shovel for so God damn long. His whole body was in pain, aching and sore, and yet he pushed onwards.

It had been awhile since his feet felt hard concrete, now it was soft grass that brushed his ankles and would’ve bothered him if not for everything else clouding his mind. The beginnings of the forest were thin, with tall lanky trees scattered here and there with a few leaves to cover its nude branches. Now, though, he was sprinting through a thick forest, with the thick leaves of trees practically reaching out to trip him as he went past.

The sun beat down on him impossibly warm, despite the fact that it wasn’t actually  _that_  hot. He had no clue how he had dragged the infected behind him for this long. It was mid day, they should be sleeping or whatever they did, not chasing him to no end.

The group behind him had lightened up somewhat. The fifty or so he had picked up from the city turned into ten, maybe fifteen, although that was still way too many for him to even dream about being able to handle on his own.

His heart pounded out of his chest as he ran, the sound of it accompanying the rush of blood under his flushed skin and the sound of fabric shifting as he ran. With each footfall the crunch of twigs underfoot seemed much too loud.

The brunet wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep on like this. He already felt somewhat nauseous, like he would keel over and vomit everything in his stomach onto the ground in front of him. Then even after that, just endless dry heaving until something came behind him and took a bite.

He wanted to stop - he really did. He so desperately wanted to stop and just end it, to let the creatures devour him and allow him to finally rest. It wasn’t long now; surely his body would give out on him, making him faint or maybe just leaving him motionless on the floor, unable to move a muscle and only allowing him to watch and /feel/ the creatures rip into his flesh. It’d probably feel a lot better than this.

His pace had greatly slowed at this point, from what it was originally. He made the mistake of sprinting when he really didn’t need to, hoping to get a lead on the fuckers. It only made him more tired, and apparently they were a lot smarter than he bargained. They knew how to track- or maybe it was just the fact that the stench of sweat and desperation that dripped off of him was incredibly strong and could be smelled by anyone for miles.

Now he led somewhat of a leisurely pace, a steady jog with the occasional time he stumbled over a larger branch or just suddenly felt one of his legs buckle from underneath him. He was /exhausted/, relating the feeling back to when he was a child and had terrible asthma. He couldn’t really breathe, although he seemed to be getting some air. At least, he wasn’t necessarily trying to, and it seemed that his brain had just taken over all of the functions that he needed to do at the moment. He didn’t think about running, he just did, his legs moved on their own accord onwards and he struggled to breathe at a steady pace whereas he was thinking about trying to just hold his breath and see what would happen.

Trott stopped suddenly, leaning against a nearby tree for stability that he couldn’t provide for himself. His legs were like jelly, and his arms were shaking just from trying to reach up and grab the tree. The roughness of the bark under his palm couldn’t even be felt at this point. He was too numb to feel anything besides the tiredness in his muscles and the unbelievable heaviness everywhere.

He took a deep shuddering breath, trying to calm himself, although it only proved to make him double over coughing. His throat was dry and tasted like blood, and for a moment he just stayed there, hacking as he leaned against the tree.

He wiped his mouth, disappointed but not surprised when he felt his chapped lips. He used his tongue to lick along them, but it only proved to cause an uncomfortable and irritating sting. His tongue was unusually dry as well, and he wondered if he had time to reach into his bag and grab a bottle of water.

He struggled to hear any sounds besides his blood rushing in his ears and his own haggard breathing. After a few moments, however, he seemed to calm down somewhat. He was still numb, and didn’t feel his best, but his breathing had quieted enough for him to hear the wind rush through the trees besides him and the otherwise peaceful silence.

He turned his head behind him, looking and listening for any signs of the disgusting creatures that had been following him. He narrowed his eyes, trying to peer past the thick greenery and find any signs of movement. There were none, besides the breeze that sifted through the leaves.

He sighed, somewhat relieved, as he leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree. His backpack scraped across the bark, threads sticking to the wood. He leaned forward slightly, setting his shovel down besides him so it leaned against the trunk of the tree. He stretched his fingers, rubbing his left hand and wincing at the sight of red blisters. He slipped his backpack from his shoulders, moving to rest  it on his knee.

He proceeded to look for a his water bottle, finding  it all the way at the bottom, slightly squished from the weight of the objects on top of it and from being jostled around so much. He took it out, hands still shaky as he struggled to open the lid. He hissed as he tried to open the bottle, frustrated that he was almost too weak in the moment to open a bottle of water.

Luckily, he was able to get it open, immediately bringing it to his lips with a satisfied sigh. The small sip he took was followed by many large gulps, until the bottle was gone and he didn’t feel nearly as refreshed as he hoped. The water rushing down his throat was incredible, somewhat warm, but still running cold down his otherwise desert-like throat. He moaned at the taste of it, the taste of practically nothing, just the short-lived feeling of being refreshed.

He shoved the now empty bottle back into his bag, fingers still trembling as he set the bag down on the floor in front of his feet. Trott took a moment to look around him, being sure that there was nothing following him before he reached for the zipper of his jacket.

His fingers gripped the metal of the zipper tightly, slipping off at first due to the sweat that still coated his body. He managed to pull it down, slipping the thick annoying material off of himself. He sighed, finally being able to breathe. He pushed the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, enjoying the feel of cold air on his forearms. It made his hair stand on end, but he didn’t mind. It was refreshing.

He folded his jacket carefully, putting it in his bag and zipping it up. The backpack he had brought was considerably smaller than the others, and so the new bulky material caused it to bulge slightly. It didn’t phase him much, until he put it on his shoulders and was slightly irritated with the way it was rounded and wouldn’t lay flat against his back.

The feeling was soon forgotten, however, when the sound of faint moans and groans could just barely be heard. He sighed, debating on whether he should just stay here and allow the inevitable to happen, or continue onward.

A thought struck him, quite suddenly and making his whole body suddenly ping into action.  _Why was he even here?_ Well that was quite obvious, he was being chased by creatures he led away from one of his friends. He was here to save Ross, to send Ross back to Smith; to send him back to safety.

He was suddenly up, pushing himself off the tree. All of his weight suddenly on his legs made him cringe, his knees buckling and threatening to send him towards the floor, but he didn’t fall. He stood for a moment, composing himself before continuing onwards, a steady pace the same way he was going before.

He walked this time, not running or attempting to out-jog the relentless monsters behind him. It wasn’t exactly slow, he walked briskly enough to really get the breeze hitting him in a way that sent chills down his spine. It was refreshing enough, to get him to keep going.

_Smith_  and  _Ross_. He smiled at the thought of them, hoping that they were safe and alright. Surely Ross was with Smith by now, staying warm in the house they had dumped their supplies. Maybe Smith would’ve told him about what happened, how they both felt about him. He shook his head, chuckling at the thought of both of them snogging because they were both randy bastards and hadn’t had contact like that in quite awhile.

Hopefully Smith had given Ross the pendant, instead of keeping it himself. He hoped Smith told Ross how gorgeous it looked on him, how it brought out his eyes and complimented his already beautiful self.

The moans and groans were soon far from his mind as he thought about his friends, allowing his mind to drift to sweet memories and conversations. Even though the last time the three of them were all together, were /safe/, seemed so long ago, he could remember it perfectly. He could remember the fondness he felt for the two of them, watching them giggle and laugh as they wrestled on the bed, how he definitely wouldn’t have minded if Smith had leaned down and kissed Ross right then and there.

He paused.  _Kissing Ross_. That must be nice. He imagined Ross to be a good kisser, although he was usually an awkward fellow, he assumed he knew how to push his lips against others and make the other feel fantastic.

When he first kissed Smith, he wasn’t necessarily surprised by the sloppiness in his lip movements, that seemed almost drunken. It felt nice though, and he definitely didn’t mind. He didn’t mind having arms around himself, and sitting in a warm lap and enjoying the feeling of a mouth against his own. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in so long, and he was certainly happy to feel it again with the redhead.

He sighed happily, somewhat content just thinking about the two of them. Both of the boys brought him so much comfort, so much safety and warmth. That saying, “home is where the heart is” really is true in Trott’s case, because his heart was definitely with the both of them.

The smile on his face suddenly dropped, and a sinking feeling started forming in the pits of his belly. They weren’t here with him though. He  _wasn’t_  home. Both of them were  _gone_ , and he was  _alone_.

He was snapped back into the real world within mere seconds, suddenly becoming aware of everything around him. He realized he had slowed quite a lot, and that infected were quickly approaching, their moans much louder than before. The breeze was a lot stronger, causing him to feel extremely cold. He wished he hadn’t shoved his jacket away now. He was very much aware of the numbing pain in his whole body, especially his legs which were now going from numb to sore.

He turned his head quickly, eyes widening upon noticing the fact that he could  _see_  them coming over the horizon. He wasn’t sure if they could see that he was standing there, frozen and terrified.

Trott turned around quickly, picking up his pace and going from a fast walk to a slow jog, making his way through the thick forest. The trees started creating blockades that wouldn’t allow him through, that would make him turn so many directions that he wasn’t sure if he was going South anymore.

He felt so scared, everything hitting him fast and hard. His brain struggled with everything, with the worry that something could reach through the thick of leaves around him and snatch him up at any moment. Something could be behind him right now, about to bite into him and turn him into something terrible. What if he fell into one of those leaf trap things he saw on TV shows? It’s a possibility hunters set them up for infected, and if he wandered into one he would sure break his legs, then get buried by infected that just happened to stumble down there as well. His chest felt tight for reasons other than lack of breath, and his whole body felt /different/ as he continued onwards.

He could hear the howling of the wind that seemed to get stronger and stronger. He could hear his own footsteps clearly as his boots crunched twigs and dry leaves underfoot. He could hear the groans behind him from the infected… And he could hear something else.

He paused, eyes widening as he tried to listen again. It was a sort of trickling sound, the sound of rushing water sliding down rocks. His eyes widened, and he checked behind him once more before continuing onwards towards the sound.

The forest once again thinned out, although just slightly. The sound got louder, and Trott swore he could almost smell the water from where he was. Within moments he came rushing out of the forest into a clearing of sorts.

The river in front of him seemed deeper, the water clear but darker. It splashed along the river banks, flowing towards the west and creating such a calm peaceful sound. It was almost eerie with his knowledge that infected could be approaching any moment.

He stepped forward, looking both ways and following the stream both ways. He wasn’t sure exactly where he was, nor where this led. He could be anywhere really, after getting lost in the forest for so long. He could be miles away from where he wanted to be, Smith and Ross could be long gone…

He took his backpack from his shoulders, stepping towards the edge of stream and peering inside. He could just barely see the bottom, murky and covered in rocks. It looked as if he could wade in it, maybe just above his waist. He bit his lip, bending down and reaching downwards to feel the water. It was freezing on his fingertips, much too cold for swimming. He’d probably get sick…

He checked behind him again, the sound of infected approaching getting louder and louder. He sighed, closing his eyes and running his hands through his hair. 

_What would Smith and Ross do?_

The answer was obvious, of course. Both of them would strip down and go through, drying off and putting on their clothes once they got to the other side… Fuck he wished they were here. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so scared, feeling helpless. He missed Smith’s voice and he missed the sound of Ross’ laugh. He missed every single thing about them, even if it always proved to be more of an annoyance.

He shoved his shovel into his backpack, making sure it was secure before eyeing up the river. Surely he could throw that far? He tried, pulling his arms back and shoving the backpack forward. It luckily landed on the otherside with a clank. He sighed thankfully, peering behind himself again to make sure he wasn’t being snuck up on.

He went for his shirt, reaching for the bottom of it and tugging it up over his head. The chill of the wind made him cringe, his hair standing on edge as he managed to pull it up and off of him. He bundled it into a little ball, taking a step forward to chuck it to the other side. It made it, and with a triumphant smile he started unbuckling his belt.

Maybe he was okay alone. He was doing  _fine_  without Smith and Ross… Not psychologically, sure, but physically - he was doing just fine.

He managed to get his jeans over his boots,rolling the fabric up over the walkie talkie he still had clipped to his trousers. He chucked that over too, wincing when the radio hit the ground with a thud. It’d probably be fine.

Trott took a deep breath, checking behind him one last time, thankful when he saw that none of the infected had gotten too close. He looked down at himself, freezing and shivering in the cold. At least he’d have dry clothes to get into when he got out.

He took a step forward, dipping his boot into the water. It went just to his ankle, luckily still covered in leather. He took another few steps, continuing until the water had risen above his boots.

“Fuck,” he hissed, the cold water making his whole body go rigid.

_Come on, Trott. Keep going._

He continued onwards, whispering expletives as he went. The water got higher and higher, his legs practically icecubes by the time the water had risen to his boxers. He was just in the middle now, hoping it wouldn’t get much deeper.

His eyes peered down into the water as he went, looking out for anything strange he probably didn’t want to step on. The water was dark though, murkier towards the middle, making him slightly nervous as he continued wading forward.

The next step was a mistake, the hole where his foot was supposed to meet solid ground taking him by surprise. He gasped, falling forward and finding himself up to his neck in the freezing water.

He found himself frozen for a moment, just sitting submerged in the ice cold water as he tried to process what had happened. His whole body ran cold, and the back of his mind worried about him getting sick.

He brought his legs up, using his arms to float in the water. It was still flowing towards his right, splashing along and making him drift just slightly. He shakily continued onwards, his arms sore as they moved him towards the other side of the river bank.

He sighed when his boot found solid ground, using it as support as he struggled to pull himself back up into a standing position. When he finally did, he found himself just slightly more calm, although still shivering due to the cold breeze on his now dripping wet torso.

He took another step, almost to the edge of the river when he felt something clamp around his ankle.

He  _screamed_. He screamed like he was being stabbed to death, and he immediately tried jerking away from whatever clamped down on him. Trott looked down into the water, eyes widening when he could make out a more human-like figure under the water. Although unclear, he could feel pruny bony fingers close around his ankles, much too strong.

Panic immediately coursed through him, causing him to fall backwards into the water. He continued screaming yelling for help as he tried to pull his leg from the creature’s grasp. How the fuck did it even get down there? How didn’t he see it?

He struggled to get free of the grip, the water not exactly easy to move around in. The heaviness of his limbs made it even worse, made him feel helpless as he tried to tug his leg away from whatever had him in his grips.

“ROSS,” he cried out, his voice raspy and hurting his throat as it fell from his lips. He violently thrashed in the water, splashing around and only causing himself more difficulties. The realization that when /nobody/ came when he called hit him harder, made him feel truly alone. He continued screaming, calling for Smith and Ross helplessly, despite knowing that there was no possible way they could here.

He sobbed, still trying to jerk his foot away, grasping for anything to hold onto. His fingers dug into mud and rocks, getting torn up by hard surfaces and spilling blood into the water. Tears ran down his cheeks, mixing with the river water as he screamed and cried, desperate for anything to help save him.

“P-please let go,” he whimpered, sniffling and shaking as he continued to tug his leg away. He was so tired, his muscles aching and barely being able to move at this point. He put his head back in the water, the liquid soaking his hair and making him shiver. It was still freezing, but at this point he didn’t really care about that.

“F-fuck,” he rasped, his throat dry despite the water around him and the tears down his cheeks tasting salty when they slipped through his lips. He tried so hard, so fucking hard.

The fingers around his ankle were determined to capture him as a meal, grasped tightly around him and pulling down oh so hard. Trott’s own fingers dug into the mud, grasping for something to help him get any sort of leverage and tug him back to safety.

“S-smith, R-ross fuck. P-please.” He let out little whimpers, crying out and begging for something to help him. He knew better than to expect Ross or Smith to pop out of nowhere, but he still hoped they would. He hoped they would save him, pull him out of the water and hug him forever.

He wanted to feel the warmth of them, the comfort that they always brought and encompassed him in. He wanted to hear Ross’ voice telling him it’d be alright, and he wanted to just hug Smith knowing that the poor guy would probably be beating himself up about letting this happen to him.

He needed them so desperately in this moment. He couldn’t do anything without them.

~~~

“Well, this is fancy.”

He spoke quietly to himself, knowing all too well that he could be heard by anything that could be lurking about. He still didn’t feel exactly safe about where he found himself a shelter for the night, being that from where he stood he could still see some infected lurking about. They were too far away to be an issue as of now, but still.

It was getting late, and he was lucky enough to be able to slam that infected’s head against the wall of the barn he found, swinging his axe around to slice off it’s head. His ankle was killing him, but he was finally happy to get rid of the fucker that he had been trailing for miles.

The barn was quite small, not storing much of interest. It had two large doors parallel to each other, the classic red color with white planks bordering the walls. To the left or right, there were stairs up to two small loft areas, both of them filled with hay. Under the stairs, there were wide doorways to little rooms.

Smith hobbled forward, dropping his axe on the floor to attempt to close the door in front of him. He grabbed onto the wooden handle provided, wincing when the wood dug into his skin. He tugged as hard as he could provided that he could only stand on his right foot. His left foot was definitely fucked up, even more so from having to run on it for three miles.

“Fuck,” he groaned, irritation lining his voice as he was unable to close the door. He assumed the hinges were too rusted to be able to work properly, as opposed to blaming it on his own injury.

He turned back to the other door, hobbling back and trying to pull that one close. the door didn’t budge, just creaked in protest. He sighed, muttering expletives as he leaned down to pick up his axe.

He didn’t think there could be much in the barn. It was too small, somewhere that nobody would want to hang out in for too long, let alone leave supplies.

He hobbled over to the right side first, ducking under the stairs and going under the overhang the loft provided. The roof was far too low, and he hit his head once upon entering. He cursed his height as he peered around, disappointed when he only found metal scraps and empty cans.

He went back to the other side, limping along and ducking under the left staircase. That room was just empty, filled with bales of hay. He sniffled, groaning and worrying about his well-being for the first time in awhile.

Night was approaching fast and his stomach was already growling, needing some sort of substance. He refused to admit to himself that he was being stupid by opening the door, though. It was better to know than not, he supposed. That way he wouldn’t be attacked in his sleep if they somehow managed to get in… then again, Ross would’ve been there by the time night fell and he could’ve taken care of them…

He exited the small room under the stairs, for a moment thinking of a Harry Potter joke before once again finding himself in the middle of this barn. He was far too exposed with the doors open, so maybe if he was able to get himself into one of the lofts and block off the stairs with bales of hay he’d be okay. He needed to sleep, that’s for sure, there was no questioning that.

He climbed up the left side of stairs, or at least attempted to. It was hard with only being able to put weight on one ankle without screaming, and there wasn’t any banister to hold onto. Each attempt he made to go further hurt, and would cause the wood underneath him to creak in protest to the weight. Halfway up, he got down on his knees and crawled.

Upon reaching the top, he used one of the many hay bales stacked up to pull himself back up into a standing position. He looked around, peering around the small space. The roof was slanted to the point where he could only stand without ducking if he was on the very edge of the loft. He stepped around the hay bales, axe in hand and ready to hit anything that might pop out.

He was relieved when there was nothing living there waiting for him, and even happier when he saw the stash of supplies. His eyes widened, mouth agape as he stared at it. Somebody made a nest of sorts out of blankets and sheets, with a ripped flower-covered sheet used as an overhand. A torch was left besides it, along with a backpack and what looked like /weapons/.

“Jackpot,” Smith whispered, smile widening on his lips. He figured a survivor had held up here, and the thought that they might return or even that they had been driven out of here was far from mind.

He slowly bent down, getting on his hands and knees to crawl closer. His axe was set aside in favor of grabbing the backpack and eagerly pulling it towards him.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, giggling like a kid in a candy store at the sight before him. There were numerous bottles of water stuffed in the bag, not to mention cans of beans. He eagerly dumped all of the contents on the floor in front of him, eager to examine the goodies the bag held.

He counted four cans of beans and two cans of soup, stacking them and setting them aside. There were seven bottles of water left, along with a thermos that felt like it was still full. He set that aside, looking at everything else. He found many little boxes, which were hard to read in the rapidly dimming light. He leaned over and reached for the torch, flicking it on and smiling when it worked. He pointed it at the boxes, holding one up to the light.

His eyes widened.  _Ammo_. He looked towards the things he had seen in the corner, the things that looked like weapons. He pointed the torch towards it, squinting his eyes and wanting to scream in joy when he saw two pistols sitting there.

He set the torch down, pointing it towards the ceiling, in favor of eagerly grabbing at the guns. He was careful to point them down, grinning at the feeling of cold metal on his fingertips. They were heavy, nothing he couldn’t handle. He had no clue what kind of pistols they were, and being that he had only shot real guns (not just the airsoft ones) once, he didn’t know how good he would be at shooting.

Other than that, the backpack had simple things. A blanket, bandages, a couple bottles of pills. All of it was useful, so Smith started shoving it all back into the backpack, with the exception of a can of beans and a bottle of water.

He scooted himself into the little blanket fort they had created, making sure his axe was in reach as he settled in. He ate in silence, staring off into nothingness. The only light he had was the torch and he knew he would have to turn it off soon to conserve batteries. So he enjoyed the light while it lasted, not really tasting the food he was shoveling into his mouth as he hypothesized possible ways to go about anything from here on out.

_Ross has to be at the house by now, and if not… well…_

Smith gnawed on his lip, shoving the thought far from the front of his mind. Ross would obviously see he wasn’t there, and start looking for him. Maybe Trott had caught up with him as well, maybe they were coming together to find him. He hummed, satisfied with the petty excuse as he settled in for the night.

~~~

**BANG**

He jumped, another scream leaving his lips as the loud sound of a gunshot rang through his head. The water around him sloshed around, only proving to get him wetter as he almost sunk under the surface.

He didn’t have much time to react before two hands were gripping his shoulders, their  hold on him tight and strong as they hefted him out of the water. He shivered when his chest hit the cold air, and as his body was dragged up onto the grass he couldn’t even struggle.

His ears were still ringing, his head pounding and eyesight somewhat fuzzy due to the loud sound. He laid back flat on his back, exhausted and panting. The grass under his wet skin stuck to his skin annoyingly, and he would’ve complained if not for the numbness and unawareness that clouded his mind.

The hands on his shoulders let up, their somewhat grounding touch leaving him to float away. His eyes fluttered closed, opening again and trying to register exactly what was happening.

In his confused state, he could’ve sworn he saw a shorter figure squat in front of him, touch soft on his shoulders as he was pulled upwards in a sitting position. He could feel something behind him, keeping him from falling backwards again.

His eyes closed again, leaving him in the darkness. He just wanted to sleep, why couldn’t he sleep?

He felt hands skim up his ankle in the same place the infected had grabbed him earlier. The touch was gentle, running over the exactly place the fingers were. Surely he would have a bruise there.

His hearing returned, although he kept his eyes closed when he found that the brightness was just  _too_  much for him to handle. It wasn’t the best, sure, sounding almost as if somebody was talking to him from far away or had cloth over their mouth.

There were two voices, unfamiliar. He could make out the occasional word, although he couldn’t really put two and two together of what they were talking about.

He only heard two words clearly uttered by the more feminine of the voices before he was out.

“Stupid bastard.”

~~~

“Hey, look who’s awake.”

Trott awoke, confusion settling into his mind and stomach. His surroundings were unfamiliar, as were the voices he heard and the two figures sitting in front of him.

He registered he was alive at least, and warm. He looked down, slowly bringing his hands up to his face to see the sleeves that covered his arms. He felt warm, a nice contrast to the last he remembered.

He finally acknowledged the two figures in front of him when he felt something being chucked at his shoulder. Whatever it was, it was heavy, and when he looked down at his lap to see what it was, he was almost shocked to see an  _apple_.

The girl in front of him shoved at the man who had thrown the apple, muttering under her breath about how rude he was being to their guest. The girl, he figured, must’ve been the person he saw earlier. She looked quite short and petite (even while sitting), although definitely not somebody you wanted to cross. Her eyes were a deep brown, soft and easy to look at. She smiled at Trott, tucking her dark hair behind her ear and finally speaking directly to  _him_.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Her sarcastic tone was almost surprising to come from such a petite woman. Yet it was so comforting, and almost a reminiscent of Smith and Ross to Trott.

He croaked out a hum in reply, not really any words. He didn’t think he could manage speaking, being that his brain was so jumbled and he felt so out of it. For a moment he wondered if this was what it was like to be high, but there were more important matters at present than dwelling on that.

“Not speaking, hm,” the man asked, raising an eyebrow at Trott. He was much larger than the girl, tall and chubbier. His cheeks were dusted with a blonde stubble that matched the color of his hair, the strands long and resting down by his neck. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, presumably waiting for a reply that Trott really didn’t feel like giving him.

“Duncan,” the girl chided, nudging the man again. “You’re so rude.”

“Kim, it’s the apocalypse… I don’t trust these people easily. This could be a trap.”

“Oh what? His friends just threw him in the river and let him  _almost die_  there just so they could lure some sad saps like us,” the girl- Kim - scoffed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

She looked back at Trott, smiling warmly. “My name is Kim, and this big dope is Duncan.”

Kim paused, watching Trott and waiting for him to state his name. He didn’t, not just yet. Not because he didn’t want to, more because he still wasn’t feeling up for it. The silence in which she waited to resume speaking was much too long, becoming awkward after a few moments.

He looked around at his surroundings, examining the fact that he was sitting on a wooden floor with wooden walls on either side of him. There was a place in the walls where there were no planks of wood, exposing the small square room to the air outside. The roof seemed to be a standard pyramid, and for a moment Trott wondered if they were in a hut they  _built_  or something.

“We’re in a watchtower,” Kim filled in, as if she could read his mind. “It’s barely half a mile from where we found you. The second we heard you scream, we came running-”

“Actually, Kim dragged me there,” Duncan cut in.

“Wow, way to show him you can be trusted. Saying that you weren’t even gonna go help him in the first place?”

“Shut up, Kim,” Duncan shook his head.

“No you!”

“Where…” Trott started, eyes widening when his voice came out dry and raspy. It was so much deeper than usual, barely recognizable. He coughed, clearing his throat and wincing at the pain it caused him. “Where are we?” He finished, grimace hanging on his lips. His throat felt like it was ripped to shreds.

“She just told you that.”

“No- I mean, where like… a map. Are- are we south of that big city?”

Kim raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Duncan before returning her gaze to Trott’s.

“Not exactly,” she hummed. “Why? Do you seriously wanna go back to that death trap?”

Trott shook his head. “No- Not exactly. I came from there and- and I was just… I need to get back to my friends.”

“Did you guys get separated,” Duncan questioned, digging into a bag besides him.

Trott nodded, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the wood. It was obvious he didn’t want to discuss it, so neither Duncan nor Kim pressed him for answers.

Instead, the blonde pulled a map from the bag he was digging through, opening it up and examining it for himself before turning it and setting it on Trott’s lap. He silently pointed to a red star on the map, obviously marked messily with a sharpie.

“That’s where we are,” Kim explained, leaning forward and sitting on her knees in front of Trott.

Trott’s eyes widened, staring at the long river that the they were currently along. It split a huge forest in two, with farmland on the right side where he came from and larger cities to the left.

His eyes focused on the right side of the forest, biting his lip at how many different farms were marked and how it wouldn’t be very easy to track where he came from.

“The city is here,” Duncan interjected suddenly, pointing to a red circle to five miles north of the forest line. It was surrounded by farmland on all sides, the fields stretching for miles.

Trott absentmindedly brought his finger down to touch the red marker, circling around before tracing west from that.

“We were around here,” he murmured, grunting and coughing as he finished his utterance. “We got caught in the city, left one of my friends back. I escaped with one of them injured, and left him here so I could go back for Ross.”

“Ross,” Kim murmured, as if affirming that she heard the name.

Trott’s eyes widened, cursing himself for accidentally using names.

“Your other friend that was injured, was he injured  _badly_ ,” Duncan asked, seemingly genuinely curious.

“Just a sprained ankle, he fell off a roof,” Trott explained, biting his lip as he thought of Smith.

“Off a roof? The hell were you guys up to,” Kim exclaimed, raising an eyebrow. 

“They broke into the house we were staying in, flooded downstairs. We had to go out the window, he felt. Ross helped him over, but they were already coming at us before he could get over the fence… I had to go back.”

“...And he got away?”

Trott nodded. “Yeah, I trailed the fuckers for awhile. Then it got overwhelming… And I just kept running.”

Duncan’s eyes widened. “You ran about ten fucking miles, how the fuck did you manage that?”

Trott shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

There was a pause in conversation, a silence filled with somberness and the sort of “oh” feeling. Disappointing, maybe, Trott couldn’t place it.

“Are you hungry at all,” Kim offered, gesturing towards a stack of cans and a package of water bottles sitting next to Trott.

~~~

Trott leaned back on his backpack, a blanket draped over him to keep out the cold. He had made himself in the comfortable of the small watch tower, with Kim and Duncan on the other side, using each other for warmth.

Trott sighed, desperately trying to close his eyes and let sleep take over. Something just seemed to keep him from it, and it didn’t take him very long to figure out what.

He felt different, he felt empty. He felt so desperately alone despite the two seemingly people he had met earlier, the people who had saved him.

There was something in his mind reminding him of how he’d much rather be with Smith and Ross, how if they were together none of this would’ve happened. If they were together then he wouldn’t feel like he was on the edge of falling into something he couldn’t crawl back out of. He needed Ross and Smith, he needed them for comfort and to keep him  _there_.  

They weren’t here though, and after mapping out where he was… The chance of ever seeing them again was terribly ruined. He bit his lip, fingers digging into his palms and biting his lip as he tried to hold back every emotion that threatened to seep out of him.

He didn’t want to cry like this. He didn’t want to break down and sob in front of strangers. He wanted to sob into Ross’ shirt, to have Ross hug him and tell him he’s alright while Smith sat there watching, obviously worried for his sake. Sure Smith wasn’t the best at comforting, but Trott could tell he cared. That’s all that mattered, because at the end of it, Smith was always there for him.

He sniffled, the sound much louder than he expected. He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, whimpers slipping through his lips as he tried desperately to stifle them. He closed his eyes, tears slipping down the side of his face as he tried to shuffle in some way that would make the fact that he was about to start sobbing much less noticeable.

It was inevitable, he knew it was. A breakdown wasn’t exactly uncommon for him, and well, he had expected one to come sooner than this in all honesty.

Before long, sobs were racketing through his body, barely muffled by both his hands clamped over his mouth. Snot ran out of his nose, him shuffling onto his front so that he could push his face into his backpack. He could feel damp spots in the fabric where his wet cheeks pressed into the backpack, but he didn’t care.

He continued like this for awhile, crying like a baby and begging some unknown force that he’d be able to meet up with Ross and Smith again. Fuck, he needed them. He needed them so,  _so_  badly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early chapter, since I missed last weeks (sorry about that by the way).  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay.

Smith held his breath, wanting to close his eyes and pretend it wasn’t happening. But he was too afraid to close his eyes, to take the risk of allowing something to take him by surprise. **  
**

So he sat, his back against the hay bales, listening to the steady symphony of groans. They sounded all too close, like they could be right in the building. Hell, they probably were, and in the moment that was definitely a possibility that Smith wouldn’t deny.

He bit his lip, pistol clutched in his hand and radio pushed to his chest. They would clear out eventually, or at least he assumed. He just had to stay quiet, to stay still. Of course, that’s not the easiest thing for him. His knee jiggled subconsciously, and he found himself crossing his legs in hope it will somehow stop him from shifting.

Each movement he made, each breath he took, each made a noise that Smith thought was  _all too loud_. Each thing he did was a risk, because one creak of the old wood beneath him could be his demise.

He couldn’t place how many were down there, although he could definitely hear many pairs of footsteps and different tones of groaning. Best case scenario was that there were only two, and that they would pass relatively easy without getting any whiff of Smith’s position. Worst case scenario, there were more than two and they could  _smell_  exactly where he was.

The redhead didn’t rule out the possibility- not just yet, at least. He had taken the safety off the gun, loaded it so it was ready to shoot. He probably wasn’t the best shot, and he knew only a headshot would kill the buggers. Every shot counted, no bullets could be wasted. Not to mention that each loud noise would just draw more, and the second he took care of the ones down there, there would be more on their way.

He knew he couldn’t go another day of running away from infected, especially with his ankle. Fuck that. He’d be screwed if he was driven out, and the thought was not at all nice in his mind.

So he sat, as silent and still as possible, doing one of his least favorite things in the world: waiting.

~~~

“Gonna tell us your name yet?”

Trott’s brow furrowed, looking back at Kim and Duncan who were walking behind him. The forest around them was quiet, the breeze from yesterday mostly gone. The chill was there, causing the need to bundle up in jackets and scarves.

The brunet had his backpack on his back, filled with food and water that Kim and Duncan had so kindly provided. His shovel was clenched in his left hand, his right holding a half-eaten apple. Apparently there was an orchard nearby, one that the two were currently taking him to.

“Trott,” he stated, looking back in front of him. Leaves and twigs crunched under his boots, making a delightful noise that somehow calmed him. Everytime he took a step that didn’t produce the noise, he found himself somewhat frustrated, making his next footfall much more forceful as he tried to create the sound again.

“That’s an interesting name,” Kim mumbled. “Is it your surname or something?”

Trott nodded. “My other friend, goes by his too. Smith.”

Kim nodded, although Trott was too busy looking at the ground to notice. He heard the occasional murmur from behind him, their quieted conversation so he couldn’t hear. It bothered him, worried him that they were talking about him. It was off-putting.

“You guys were together since the beginning,” Kim continued in question, sounding genuinely curious. Trott figured it was a harmless question with a harmless answer, and that honestly at this point he could trust these people that didn’t kill him in his sleep. Though he wasn’t exactly sleeping, last night. He cried for hours, his not-so-silent sobbing keeping him awake. He figured they heard, and was thankful that they didn’t mention it.

“Yes. We lived together, had been best mates for quite awhile… We had a small Youtube channel going.”

“Oh really,” Duncan piped up. “I did too. I uh, I was in a bigger family of channels I suppose. Ever heard of the Yogscast?”

Trott’s eyes widened, raising his eyebrows and peering behind him. “Y-yeah of course… The most popular gamers in the UK.”

Duncan laughed. “Well, that’s a kind thing to say,” he grinned. “Kim here worked for Playstation Access, we were meeting her for an interview over lunch when this shit went down.”

Trott had paused in walking, waiting for the other two to catch up before continuing. He stood to the left of Kim, leaving the girl in between them.

“Wow… Forgot how suddenly it happened…”

“It really didn’t,” Duncan shook his head. “It was more for people that were out when the news went live about it… We got trapped in the restaurant. Didn’t get let out until two weeks later when somebody somehow got bit, we had to escape.Half of the people stuck in there got killed in their sleep.”

“Did your friends- the rest of the Yogscast, survive?”

Duncan nodded and hummed. “We all got out together; Lewis, Hannah, Simon, Sjin, Sips was visiting… uh do you know them?”

“Faintly remember,” Trott smiled.

“Yeah well, we got out together… Got separated. Last we saw of Lewis and Simon was when Hannah got bit... And well… Sjin and Sips…” Duncan trailed off, biting his lip and looking down.

Trott’s eyes fell on Kim, who also seemed preoccupied on her hands. He figured it was a sore subject and moved on.

“So you guys stuck together? That’s cool.”

“I mean, you stuck with your mates as well,” Kim shrugged. “If you trust someone, you usually team up in these situations.”

“Yeah, but I mean I knew the twats closely.”

“How close?”

Trott raised an eyebrow in Kim’s direction. “What are you implying?”

Kim smirked, tugging her hair behind her ear. “Well, it’s just that… I mean, when you talk about them… You…”

“Spit it out, Kim, Jesus,” Duncan interjected, nudging the girl in the side.

She rolled her eyes. “You look all happy, I don’t know… Like someone  _in love_.”

Trott flushed, he could feel his cheeks heat up. He looked away, running his free hand through the hair on the back of his neck.

“Of course I love ‘em, they are my best friends,” Trott shrugged.

“Nothing more?”

_Yes_.

“No, you’re being ridiculous.”

~~~

Ross walked along with more confidence than before, despite the fact that he was alone. He strode through the field with awareness for everything, the sound of his own footsteps and any other little sound of movement. His bat was stuffed in one of the backpacks, the other two still hanging on his arms. They were heavy, but at this point it wasn’t really as bad as it was before. He was fed and hydrated now, with the knowledge of a shotgun in his right hand.

He wasn’t sure exactly how to use it, although he was confident in his ability to figure it out. You just held it up and pulled the trigger, or at least that’s what he hoped.

He started walking right when he woke up, which was right about when the sun was sitting on the edge of the horizon. He needed to find Smith, that was at the top of his priorities, and he swore he would do it sooner or later.

Walking had become a lot easier, his mind much calmer than yesterday when he was unrested and malnourished and was seriously worried for his friends. Sure he still was, but he forced himself to forget about the bad outcomes and focus only on the good ones. He would find them.

~~~

Smith took a shuddering breath, his whole body shaking as he pushed himself up and away from the hay bale. The barn had faded back into silence, no more creaking floorboards or frustrated sounds from infected. He pulled himself up onto his knees, shuffling over so he could look over the loft edge. Down below, he saw nothing.

He released the deep breath he was holding, slumping backwards with a little laugh of joy. His grip on the gun he held loosened, until he set it down on the floor and put his walkie talkie down as well.

He hadn’t bothered using it, a part of him too afraid of asking for anyone and only getting the sound of static in return. They had to come find him, he knew they would.

~~~

“This is gorgeous,” Trott whispered, afraid to talk too loudly and disrupt the placid part of the forest.

Kim beamed from behind him, standing beside him and cocking her head to look at the brunet. The in-awe look on his face was somewhat cute, though she just bit her lip to hold back the platonic words.

“It is, isn’t it?”

Before them, lines of trees were planted, tall with light brown bark that peeled from it’s trunk. The branches were covered in light green leaves, all of them shifting gently in the wind. Apples littered the floor, most of them rotted and impacted in  on themselves or a yellowish color. Bright red apples hung from the trees, looking juicy and shiny from the glare of the sunlight. Others were just beginning to grow, or were still in the process of developing sweet insides and a thin red skin.

Duncan had already walked in front of them, uninterested in the orchard’s beauty and immediately getting to picking the fruit that was ripe and  ready. His backpack hung on his left arm, the largest pocket opened a bit so that he could drop the apples inside.

“Can I get some,” Trott questioned, glancing at Kim.

The woman laughed. “Uh, yeah? Why couldn’t you? Isn’t that why we  brought you here.”

“Thought you brought me to help you pick some,” Trott muttered, stepping forward towards a tree that looked rich in fruit.

“Well, yeah… But, why wouldn’t we share? Not like you’re our slave or something,” Kim scoffed, going towards the next tree over. She dropped her backpack near the base of the tree, and Trott’s gaze was pulled to watch her jump up to grab the lowest branch, pulling herself up so that her elbows rested on the branch. Her hands then went to grab the branch, pushing herself up to her waist, then rocking herself away to get momentum as she swung her leg over. She heaved herself onto the branch, straddling over the rough bark. She easily reached up towards the branches, her fingers searching through the leaves for a ripe apple to grab.

“Damn,” Trott whistled, raising an eyebrow at her.

Kim chuckled, twisting her wrist as she pulled an apple from the branch. She dropped it down towards the floor, watching as it landed with a thud into her open bag.

“Practice,” she shrugged, not looking towards Trott as she spoke.

Trott nodded, humming and standing on his toes to grab an apple on a higher branch.

“Are there many around here,” Trott asked.

“No,” Kim shook her head. “They only follow our scent, so we never try to stay here for long. There’s a little fence that borders the South of the orchard, it’s chicken wire so they get caught on it. Otherwise, the others coming from the East or West will walk past the orchard to come for us.”

“That why you live so far off from here?”

Kim nodded.

“Yeah, we’d like to give this place some peace, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s smart. You guys have things figured out.”

“Yeah, Duncan was quite interested in them, trying to set traps and strategies for getting past them. While we were with the rest of our groups, we found out about how they are distracted by life, disguising scent, older ones have terrible vision so if you stand still you should be alright. The longer they aren’t human, the dumber and less intelligent they get. When first infected, they can open doors and climb fences. Give it three months and they aren’t as strong and they can’t do anything much anymore,” Kim explained.

“Really? I never knew that.”

Kim nodded.

“Also, they aren’t as stupid as you think. They can see fences, and if they can’t walk through it they’ll try to go around as opposed to just trying to trample it. Though, if it’s all fenced in and they can’t find a way in, or if there is a certain point where they can see something that looks interesting, that’s when they to knock shit down.”

Trott bit his lip, full of thought as he continued to pluck apples.

“Any other helpful things I should know?”

“Oh mate, there are  _tons_. Ask Duncan, he’s got a journal filled with this crap.”

~~~

“A-Alex? A-ah.”

Trott’s voice got noticeably deeper in that moment, his body tensing and his back arching against the couch that he lay on. His bare skin was somewhat sticky with sweat, due to the newfound humidity in the room. Smith was above him, one hand planted firmly beside his head and holding himself above him as his other hand stroked him in his boxers.

His movements were somewhat confined by the fabric, but he made no move to try and remove them just yet - not without Trott’s approval, at least. This was just fine though, the heat of Trott’s erection in his hand, hard and slick with the sweat from his palm as he steadily stroked along him. His hand squeezed around the head, drawing deep moans from Trott’s lips.

The smaller had his teeth firmly holding his bottom lip, hissing whenever Smith squeezed along him, gasping with each twist of his wrist, and moaning when Smith made him feel better than incredible.

He missed the little shocks of pleasure he got from being touched. It had been awhile, he had only tried to jerk himself off once, which led to Ross almost getting bit. So he promised himself that he never would again… though he supposed, this was Smith touching him, not himself.

“Feel good, Trotty,” Smith smirked, his hand picking up speed and noting the way Trott’s eyes had fluttered closed.

Trott let out a choked groan, nodding and swinging a hand up to wrap around Smith’s shoulders. He pulled him into a messy kiss, noises tumbling from his mouth to Smith’s. He moaned louder and more often as he got closer, that edge quickly approaching with the only warning being the tightening in his stomach.

When he finally came, he had shouted Smith’s name breathlessly, his back arching off the couch and his moans sweeter than honey as they fell from his lips. He had pulled Smith close, his hips bucking up as he finished, cumming over his boxers.

Smith grinned, waiting until he felt him soften in his grasp to pull his hand away. His fingers were sticky, covered in a substance that he had recognized from his own “alone time.”

“Look at it, Trott,” he giggled, shoving his cum-covered fingers towards the brunet’s face. Trott jerked away.

“Keep that up, and I won’t be repaying you, mate,” Trott breathed, his voice a rasp and his sentence broken up by heavy pants as he came down from his high of orgasm.

Smith pouted, bringing the fingers to his lips and experimentally popping one in his mouth. He caught Trott’s eyes as he did so, smirking and popping the others in.

“Smith, please don’t do that- Next time I might accidentally ask for a dick up my ass if you keep being this hot,” Trott chuckled hands reaching forward to grab his wrist.

Smith chuckled, and was about to reply then the grip on his wrist /tightened/.

“Ouch? Trott,” he whimpered, his smile fading as he felt sharp nails digging into his skin. “T-Trott, stop! You’re- you’re hurting me, ouch!”

The scene in front of him faded away, the beautiful image of Trott with a lazy grin on his face turning to black. The pain was still there, holding him tightly… pulling his wrist… somewhere?

He let out a little shout, his eyes opening wide and his head turning towards his hand to see what the fuck was going on. He gasped, then  _screamed_.

~~~

_Bites are the only known way to transmit the disease besides being killed through a way that does not damage the brain. The infected saliva, when in your bloodstream, starts killing off everything, making that limb feel numb and dead. The infection spreads until it reaches any of your important organs. Once it reaches your intestines, there is the risk of bleeding out internally, or diarrhea (theory). Soon after it reaches any of these organs you are dead and will be brought back once the infection gets to your brain. Depending on where you are bit, and how well your immune system can fight, infection can take from anywhere between 3-48 hours._

_Any bit persons can only be saved if the bite is on a limb that can be safely removed. It must be amputated before the infection can spread past it._

_CAUTION: KEEP THE VICTIM IN SOLITUDE FOR THE NEXT 48 HOURS, UNDER CAREFUL WATCH TO SEE IF SYMPTOMS CONTINUE OR THE PROCEDURE FAILED_

“You wrote all of this, Duncan,” Trott questioned, leaning in the corner of the watch tower. His elbow rested on a small crate, his eyes scanning the messily-scrawled writing as he soaked up the information written there.

“Yep,” Duncan beamed proudly, taking a bite of an apple. “When we were in a safe place, we did experiments. And… from experience… I was able to average out how fast the infection can spread, ways to stop it, symptoms…”

Trott nodded, flipping the page and reading the heading:  _SYMPTOMS OF UNAVOIDABLE INFECTION._

_Headaches, nausea, fever, dizziness, vomiting, pupils dilated, eyes changing colors, shakiness, diarrhea, inability to eat,  the chills, heatstroke, hallucinations, slurring of words._

_However, some of these are just normal reactions the body has to fighting off something. If they are just puking or just have a fever, there is a probability that their body is successfully fighting off whatever is trying to take over their bloodstreams. This is also a common symptom after amputation. Only if they were bitten on any limbs, are those two symptoms acceptable. Otherwise, death is unavoidable._

“Do you know this stuff is true,” Trott asked. “Like, for sure?”

Duncan shrugged. “It’s what we /know/. It may not be the whole truth, or it may not be completely accurate… but nothing really  _ever_  is, so… This is the best you got.” 


	6. I Thought You Were Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that finals are over and I'm on winter break, I'll be able to get more of this written and posted. Hopefully I'll get to some *cough* v nice *cough* chapters soon. Of course along with lots of angst, but... hey what's the zombie aocalypse without angst and death- I MEAN NOT DEATH NOPE NEVER WHERE WHAT DEATH HAH.

“Smith? Trott? Are any of you picking up this signal? Hello?”

Ross’ finger let the pressure off the button, smoothing down to the side of the radio. He kept it by his ear, slowly walking through a field of weeds and tall grass that brushed and caught on his jeans. His feet were numb and sore, aching with the feeling of pin pricks constantly pressing into his skin.

He was still walking in the same direction Smith had left, and he was worrying by now. This was incredibly far for somebody to get with an injured ankle and no food. It’d been two nights now, approaching a third.

The sun was slowly setting over the peaks of hills, casting shadows over himself and the occasional tree around him. The landscape was gorgeous, he had to admit, the dying golden grass swaying to the melody of the wind. The sun made the sky look whimsical, painted with deep rich colors. That while looking incredible, also brought a feeling of dread.

Ross had never understood what people enjoyed about sunrises, he had always appreciated sunsets much more. Sunrises brought morning, brought birds chirping and loud, unsettling noises. It turned the dark empty streets to crowded places for cars to inch by, honking their horns and polluting the air. It brought on people, it brought on the much dreaded /work/. It took away the moon and it’s stars that added some depth to the sky, some wonder to what lay beyond them (because they most definitely weren’t the only things).

It wasn’t until the apocalypse, that he realized the benefits to sunrise. The sun was safety, the sun was everything. Sun made the creatures that plagued the earth drowsy, made them sleepy, calmed their urges to dig into the flesh of living creatures.

Sunsets were a bittersweet sort of thing to Ross, now. They were gorgeous, elegant in the way they stole away the sun and replaced it with the moon. It put on a show, using vibrant colors that faded to darkness, and even the darkness was accompanied by bright twinkling lights and the centerpiece- the moon high in the sky, bathing the earth in a white glow.  It put a spotlight on the horrors that lurked about under the cover of never-ending darkness (or at least it seemed that way, sometimes).

Ross quickened  his pace, aware of the dangers of the night. This area seemed eerily clear of infected persons, and he knew that must be because they were all hung up in a clump somewhere else, waiting for the stars to lure them out.

He needed a place to stay for the night, whether it be a shed or an abandoned house. He couldn’t stay outside at night without cover, that was /suicide/. He would’ve never done it with Smith or Trott to accompany him, and there was no fucking way he’d do it by himself either.

He made it to the top of the hill, and was relieved to see a building. It was nestled in the middle of a couple other hills, a valley of sorts.

There were still no infected, still no signs of human life, except for that barn he supposed. It was red, faded and old looking. It wasn’t falling apart, not yet, but it was on its way out. He smiled at the sight of his home for the night, hurrying his pace to get inside and see what he could do for barricading.

He brought his walkie talkie back to his lips, pressing the button down.

“If you guys can hear me, I found a barn… I-I don’t know in what direct, but there are hills, and it's in a field. If you… Just, look out for it, alright? Hope you’re both sa-”

There was a scream, a blood-curdling scream that sent shivers down Ross’ spine. It was no doubt from inside the barn, echoing off of the hills and the field around him. It made him stop for a split second, a split second where his mind realized two things. Those two things made him drop his bags like they were dirt, picking up his bat and breaking into full sprint towards the building.

~~~

Trott held his breath, hands trembling as he clutched a gun in his chest. The cold metal in his palm turned warm and slick with the sweat of his skin, and he closed his eyes in hopes that everything would just go away.

His eyes flicked open again, staring at the two people in front of him. They both sat at the opposite wall of himself, crouched down and huddled together, guns in their hands and melee weapons at their sides.

Their faces were mirrors of the same sort of panic on Trott’s face. Kim had pushed herself up against Duncan, muttering strange things that Trott couldn’t quite hear. It didn’t help though, the fact that Kim (possibly the bravest in their group) seemed to be trembling and preparing herself for the inevitable end.

A sea of loud groans could be heard beneath him, alongside the echoing of hundreds of footsteps. Bodies of the undead collided with the thick pieces of wood that held them up, constantly shaking the watch tower.

Trott felt like he might vomit, and felt less safe than ever in the supposed “infected proof base.” It was more obvious than ever that this building wasn’t as steady as they thought. Sure it could support three adults well enough, even if Kim was more sized like a child. Nobody ever really tried to test the strength of it, nobody stood up here and jumped around to see if it would fall. But now, with a large herd of full-grown practically unstoppable creatures below them, ramming into the supports, Trott seriously doubted their safety.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the side of the wall, listening to the symphony of moans. More than once has he fallen asleep to this disgusting lullaby, and he figured he might as well do it again.

~~~

Ross’ heart nearly leapt out of his chest at the sound of it. Two distinct gunshots, echoing through the sort of valley he was sprinting in. The burn in his legs no longer bothered him, neither did the ache in his feet and his chest. His lungs felt like ash, and his muscles felt like jelly, but his brain was only focused on one thing.

He made it to the barn quicker than expected, almost as if his brain had done it subconsciously as he zoned out on the thought of the person who let out that scream. He didn’t have time to take in his surroundings, didn’t have time to  _search._  He needed to find him now.

He was panicked, searching for the source of the scream. He heard noises from the right side, looking up he saw a loft, with hay bales stacked like a wall. He raced up the stairs, his body focused on only one thing. His grip tightened around the bat, his palms sweaty.

Ross had nearly tripped on the stairs twice, his feet thudding dangerously hard on the creaky wooden steps. He was panting, having just sprinted as if his legs weren’t about to fall off. His face was flushed and his chest was heaving with uneven breaths, and he almost cried at the sight before him.

“Smith!”

A gun was pressed into his palm; a corpse was laid face down in his lap. He looked terrified, out of breath with wide panicked eyes. He looked up at Ross, blinking a couple times.

“Ross?”

He sounded out of breath, his voice a quiet rasp. It was almost tentative, as if he wasn’t sure it was really him.

Ross let out a curse, stepping forward immediately and dropping his bat on the floor. He heaved the corpse off of Smith, shoving it aside and instead using himself as a replacement place between Smith’s legs. He quickly wrapped his arms around him, holding him in a tight, bone-breaking embrace.

Smith whimpered, nearly shaking as he brought his hands up to encircle around Ross’ middle. He nuzzled his face into his shoulder, taking shallow unsteady breaths. He smelled of sweat and grime, bad B.O. that he had easily gotten used to during the apocalypse. At the same time he smelled familiar, that comforting scent of  _Ross_ , all warm and at the same time cold, refreshing and always a relief.

Ross’ head was buried in Smith’s neck, nuzzling against the long curls of red hair. He could feel Smith’s chest against his own, his heavy breaths, feel  thudding heartbeat that was just as fast as his own, but slightly off beat. He squeezed him tighter, grabbing handfuls of his jacket and tugging, squeezing him just as a reassurance that he was there, he was real.

The room was quiet, the wind being the loudest thing as it drifted through the half-assed attempts at window coverings and the giant hole in the roof. Besides that, the sound of hitched breaths could be heard. Gentle murmurs against skin and shirts, the muffled sounds of heartbeats.

The feeling of relief, of the realization that the other was alive hit hard. It made Ross’ knees weak, forgetting about how hard and uncomfortable the floor was and the fact that he was most definitely kneeling it blood. It made him forget about the sun setting, the multiple bags of supplies he left outside for anyone to take. His mind was overwhelmed with the feeling, the smell, the sound, and the image of just  _Smith_. It was almost too much. He closed his eyes tight, holding him closer as he nuzzled more into his neck. He could feel his hair tickle his lips, his cheeks, and he almost wanted to complain but when he opened his mouth his voice was caught in his throat.

Smith felt the warmth spread through him, the familiarity of Ross. All pale skin and long legs, a human version of a puppy if he was honest with himself. He pulled him closer, rubbing his thumbs into his back as he took deep breaths of him. Like a drug, it was easy to get carried away. Every other thought was wiped from his mind, every other worry and drop of sadness and anything else in there. He was just filled with the thought of Ross in every single way possible. His lips, his hair, his skin, his nose, his arms, his legs, his chest, every inch of him there in his grasp and it almost seemed impossible but-

Smith closed his eyes, feeling tears drip down his cheeks. He sniffled and pulled him closer, ignoring the urge he had to kiss every single part of him.

“I-I thought you were dead. I thought n-neither of you would find me,” Smith whispered quietly, under his breath like a gentle wavering breeze. God damn his voice sounded incredible. It had been so long. So, so long.

“I wasn’t gonna stop until I found you,” Ross shook his head, pulling back with a deep breath. He looked Smith in the eyes, noticing how they were leaking tears and foggy with emotion. He reached up gently, rubbing his thumb along his cheek to catch a tear that caught the reflection of the moonlight.

Smith sniffled and felt the corners of his lips tug up into a smile. He noticed how Ross looked. There were layers of bags under his eyes, signaling a couple nights without any real rest.

“How long has it been since you slept,” Smith questioned, brow furrowing as his fingers tentatively traced the darkness that lingered on his pale skin.

“I got an hour or two last night,” Ross shrugged. “It’s not as easy to will yourself to sleep when you’re alone.”

Smith nodded. “I had- a suitable place so...” he gestured to the small loft, the hay bales that he had previously used to block the stairs. “There were a couple in here last night, I guess when I checked I forgot to put the bales back…” His gaze found the creature laying limp on the floor, the foggy yellow eyes and the open mouth of rotten teeth and gore.

“Are you hurt,” Ross asked, sitting back a little on his knees. He was no longer plastered to Smith, even if his hands slid down to linger on his shoulders; he could feel his legs and calves brush up against Smith’s and the way they were tight around him made him feel safe.

“N-no I- the bugger just grabbed my wrist. Scared the everloving shit outta me,” Smith explained, holding his wrist up. There was a light bruise forming where the infected had caught him, with five little crescents marking where his fingers dug in. “Should I be worried about-”

“No,” Ross shook his head. “It didn’t even break the skin.” He grabbed his wrist, pulling it closer for inspection. He couldn’t see anything in the dark, and huffed. “Torch?”

He heard shuffling, and a moment later Smith was using his free hand to shine light on his wrist.

Ross hummed, gently dragging his fingernails over the marks. Smith hissed. He mumbled a small apology and loosened his grip.

“Tomorrow morning we’ll clean them out just in case. I know we have rubbing alcohol somewhere in the bags, and some Neosporin-”

“Where are the bags?” Smith tilted his head, looking behind Ross and finally noticing that he hadn’t brought anything besides his bat.

“I dropped them when I heard you. They’re sitting at the top of the little hill, I believe.”

“What did you get?”

“The stuff you left behind at the farmhouse,” Ross nodded. “You had quite a lot.”

Smith raised an eyebrow. “You lugged all that /this/ far. Bloody hell,” he let out a breathless laugh. His hand came up without thinking, brushing Ross’ biceps. “A strong man, aren’t you?”

Ross blushed. “I mean, I think my body wants to murder me for it, but- I couldn’t just leave it. We need a lot of it.”

Smith nodded. “Thanks, then. My idiot self was the one that got us into this mess.”

“Didn’t your mum ever tell you not to open the door for strangers, Smith,” Ross smirked, chuckling when Smith pouted.

“Oh shut the hell up,” he laughed. He shook his head and looked up at the sky. “It’s dark.”

Ross nodded and looked up, spying the moon and the countless stars that surrounded it. He hummed, glancing back at Smith who looked just as in-awe as himself. He smiled to himself, admiring the way the moonlight lit up his not-as-pale-as-it-used-to-be skin. His messy tangles of hair framed his face, hanging down by his cheeks and behind his ears. His blue eyes reflected the moonlight in a beautiful way, and his when his Ross’ gaze trailed down to his lips he blushed. They were pink, curved up into a soft content smile. He quickly dragged his gaze lower, instead studying the pretty pendant that hung around his neck.

“Where’d you get this,” Ross asked, snapping Smith from the sky. The dark-haired man reached forward, taking the smooth metal into his hand. His finger rubbed over the almost soft green gem, then the little jagged shards of what looked like diamond. It couldn’t be real?

“Trott, he found it,” Smith explained, his thoughts being dragged back to the brunet. His heart ached a bit, just saying his name out loud, thinking about him it- “He got it for you, I kinda stole it. He said he thought it’d look gorgeous on you.”

He watched the flicker of emotions across Ross’ face. A blush that could barely be seen in the moonlight, a tiny flattered grin.

“I thought it would too,” Smith murmured, his voice almost lost in the overbearing sound of peaceful silence.

Ross raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him with his lips parted as if he wanted to say something. He seemed confused, flustered and confused by the words that fell from his lips.

“He fought an infected for it, Ross. You should be honored,” Smith joked, trying to lighten to mood. It just made Ross’ confusion even blurrier.

“I-” he paused, unsure of what exactly he could even say to that.

Wordlessly, Smith reached back. His fingers rubbed over the chain, and he carefully lifted the jewelry over his head. He had to tug it a bit to get it through his thick head of hair, but when he did he just smiled. He unclipped the small latch on the back, flipping it around so that the gem was facing him.

His eyes met Ross’, and he had to hold back a soft sound at the intense look on his face. Smith sat up slowly, grabbing Ross’ shoulder for support so he could get on his knees in front of him. He leaned forward, making sure the gem was facing the right way as he rested it against Ross’ chest.

Ross’ fingers came up to gently hold the pendant, running his fingers over the gem. He blinked, watching as Smith reached around him and leaned over him to clasp the necklace behind his neck. His fingers ran up the chain, looking down at it as he smoothed it into a comfortable position.

He could feel Smith move away, resort back to his original position. Before he could, he stopped him with a firm hand wrapped around his arm.

Smith stopped, staring at him, waiting for words to come from his parted lips. None came, instead Ross shook his head, smiled.

“Thank you,” he uttered quietly. “I’ll have to thank Trott later, too.”

Smith nodded, ignoring the ugly dense feeling that clouded his belly at the mention of their friend.

“You like it, then?”

Ross nodded. “I love it.” His gaze was drawn back up to the stars. “Should we sleep?”

Smith nodded. “You definitely need it.”

The dark-haired man shook his head, looking back down at him. “Thanks for pointing that out.”

“I’m looking out for you, Ross,” Smith chuckled.

“I know, I know.”

~~~

Smith woke up in the morning, for once feeling somewhat filled. The gross feeling in his stomach had lightened up somewhat, and his eyes fluttered open to the glare of bright sunlight.

His hands tightened subconsciously, tugging at a shirt that wasn’t his own. He looked down, feeling a smile spread on his lips at the sight of the source of this happy feeling that filled his chest.

Ross looked gorgeous. His eyes were closed, his chest heaving in slow deep breaths. His face was pressed against Smith’s thigh, one hand tucked underneath him and the other clutched onto Smith’s jeans. The bags under his eyes had seemed to fade, and in the moment he looked truly peaceful with the glare of the sunlight hanging on every strand of his hair and every individual eyelash.

He had fell asleep fitted against his chest, but in the night seemed to shift down in between his legs. He used Smith’s lap as a pillow, or more so his right leg. A part of Smith really hoped he wasn’t drooling (because sometimes he did that, and it was disgusting), but the other part of him didn’t care. The other part of him caused his hand to skim up his neck, onto his hair where he combed the short dark strands of hair. They were a mess, laying flat against his head and sticking up in random places. He looked gorgeous nonetheless.

His eyes scanned the room. Last night they had dumped the corpse over the edge of the loft. Much to Smith’s annoyance, Ross had made the trek in the dark to go fetch his bags. He had come back in one piece, luckily, saying he didn’t see anything and nothing saw him. They ate food together, chuckling and laughing like they used to. They shared a water bottle, knowing neither of them individually would finish one in the time they planned on eating. With full stomachs, Smith turned off the torch. They fell asleep under the gaze of the moon, cuddled together with a fuzzy feelings in their tummies.

Everything just felt better now. Despite the nagging at the back of his mind that some part of him was missing, this was better than nothing. One of his best friends was safe, one of the most important people in the world to him. And now, of course, they could properly scope out the other one.


	7. Let Us Leave These Thoughts Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross and Smith discuss the next steps.

“Your hair is getting long again,” Ross commented, his voice loud in the otherwise semi-silence. **  
**

It had started raining again, splattering the leaky-roof above their heads with droplets that would seep through. They had had to move away to the other loft due to the gaping hole in the side of the roof they were sleeping under.

Ross had lugged all the supplies to the other loft the day previous, after checking for any terrible leaks in the ceiling that might cause damage.

Together, Smith and Ross had managed to close the large double doors either side of the barn. It turned out it wasn’t rust (much to Smith’s persistent objections). Ross had shushed and assured him that a man with a sprained ankle nearly dying of exhaustion could’ve never closed it alone. Even for both of them it was a bit of a task that had them all sweaty by the end of it.

It wasn’t raining as badly as it was the other day now- (or a couple of days, or was it a week now?). The rain was much more welcomed this time, the pattering on the roof gentle and calm. The wind caressed the building, gently swaying it just as it did to the tall grass in the fields around it. Of course the old building creaked in protest, but the sound was barely heard.

“Mm. Yeah,” Smith had hummed in response.

Ross had leaned his head back against the creaky wall, sitting atop an old battered cushion. His legs were spread so Smith could lay between them, using his torso as a pillow. He had his elbows planted on Ross’ thighs, staring at his hands as they scraped two boring old pieces of wood together.

Ross’ hands were gently running through his hair, brushing through the tangles and knots that had developed over the while they’d been without a proper brush (not that Smith had really brushed it then, either, but sometimes Ross or Trott would sit down and do it for him). It was a much slower and more painful process. Smith had hissed for the first ten minutes, feeling Ross’ fingers practically rip his hair out follicle and all. After that, though, his hair was much softer, smoother, albeit frizzy because it was originally curly.

The man’s fingers gently ran along the strands, taking particular sections and winding and braiding them, twisting them up into little hair styles before letting them fall back to join the rest. Ross really wished he’d had a hair tie, wondered if there might be one in the bag. Of course, Smith nor Trott had ever carried them anyway, but maybe the person that they looted the gun from could’ve owned some.

“Are you going to let me cut it?”

“It’s barely even winter, though,” Smith whined, tilting his head back and looking up at Ross with a little pout. “It hasn’t even snowed properly yet, it won’t be warm for ages why do I have to cut it again?”

“I wasn't saying you _had_ to, I was just asking,” Ross chuckled, pulling Smith’s hair out of his face so he could see him properly. “Maybe just cut some bangs or something, so I can actually see your eyes.”

Smith scoffed, rolling his eyes and looking back towards the pieces of wood clutched in his hands. He dropped the pieces on the floor and sighed.

“I’m so bored.”

“Yeah,” Ross murmured in agreement, fingers still gently playing with his hair.

“It’s so different now…”

Ross bit his lip, brow furrowing. He knew what he meant, of course he did. It _was_ different. While it did feel nice, to no longer feel alone, to be reunited with one of his best friends, he also felt the guilt nagging at him, the thought of his other friend out there alone.

“Yeah, I know…”

They were both silent for a moment. Smith slid down a bit more, curling up and using Ross’ thigh as a pillow as he turned on his side a bit.

“We have to go back.”

“How, though,” Ross replied, after some time (whether it had been seconds or minutes he wasn’t sure). “Your ankle is fucked, it’s pouring, the amount of shit we have to lug around is way too much for two people.

Smith’s jaw clenched, but he took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, but it’s winter, Ross. It’s going to start snowing soon, it’s only a matter of time. And you remember how awful it was last year! Imagine, imagine him out there _alone_. He won’t make it.”

“Don’t say that,” Ross snapped, frown tugging at his face. “Smith, don’t you _ever_ say shit like that.”

“I-I’m just being realistic, Ross. We _need_ to find him.”

“I’m being realistic, too. We _can’t_. Believe me, if we could I’d be fucking sprinting back to go find him right fucking now. But, I can’t. It’s raining, I don’t have a way to carry enough supplies for the trip all alone. And I have to take care of you.”

“I’m not five, I don’t need to be babysat. I survived for a couple days without your supervision.”

“Yeah and you managed to nearly get killed because you opened the door to a stranger.”

“Y’know what, fuck you Ross. We all made mistakes, and we all deal with them. I dealt with that.”

“I’m not saying you _didn’t_ , all I’m saying is that I can’t just leave you here.”

“Why not? I’m fine,” Smith gestured towards the loft around him. “Look, I got food and shelter and I won’t even have to move!”

“Last time you were alone here you nearly got yourself bitten!”

“But I /didn’t/,” Smith muttered indignantly. He sat up and swiveled slightly, looking at Smith with an angry frown. “And y’know what, we _need_ to go after Trott. He left me to go after you, and now look where we are?”

“What? You’re blaming me? Would you rather have him here? Rather me starve to death in that fucking basement,” Ross hissed, voice raised just slightly.

Smith’s face changed, his words freezing on his lips as he comprehended what Ross meant. “N-No, no, Ross that’s _not_ what I meant I-I just-”

Of course he didn’t mean that, he would never mean that. He was nearly in tears when he saw Ross again. He would never be able to trade Trott for Ross or vice versa, it was just impossible. He’d rather die than pick favorites over the both of them.

“No, you’re right,” Ross chuckled darkly, shaking his head and looking down. “I-I should’ve went with him, or followed him or-”

“But you couldn’t, you _had_ to come back to me.”

“But I could’ve gotten him, then go back to you.”

“If you would’ve I would be dead now, Ross,” Smith shook his head. “Don’t- that’s all in the past.”

“Trott could be _dead_ because of me. He _saved_ me, Smith. He saved my fucking life, had at least fifty of the buggers on him and, and he just…”

“Ross…”

Smith had turned around completely now. He was kneeling between Ross’ legs, watching the man’s face turn grey and somber as he spoke. He pressed firm hands into his shoulders, his eyes gentle as his gaze roamed over Ross’ face.

“Don’t think like that,” Smith muttered, flashing a smile that wasn’t much more than a frown in disguise. “Don’t think about him, right now.”

“I c-can’t just- _not_ think about him,” Ross whimpered, his closed his eyes and let out a hitched breath. “I-I’m so worried about him.”

“I know, I am too.”

“I-I just- I wish we could do something but-”

“We can’t, I know, you’re right we _can’t_ ,” Smith finished for him. He felt much more control over his voice in the moment, at least he had more than Ross.

Ross’ voice when he was in distress was so sad, like listening to whimpering puppies. It was all wobbly and shaky, helpless and sorrowful and fuck Smith just wanted to kiss his lips into a smile.

“I-I want to.”

“But we can’t. It’s okay, Ross, it’s okay.”

Ross nodded and sighed, opening his eyes slowly. His vision was blurry with the tears forming, but he could see Smith nonetheless, looking concerned and worried for him. His large hands were warm on his shoulders, grounding him.

Smith smiled, just barely, but it was there. It made Ross smile back, in just the same manner. Somber, communicating that he’d pretend everything was okay even if it wasn’t. It seemed that the two figured that was the best thing to do for now.

“He wouldn’t want us to go looking for him,” Smith continued, his voice reassuring and calm, unwavering as he stared at Ross. “My ankle is fucked anyway, we have no idea where he could be… We just… It’d be suicide.”

Ross nodded, biting his lip and looking down.

“I miss him so much.”

“I do too.”

~~~

They had decided to wait there for three days. Three long, drawn-out days that had them wanting to break the walls of their little shelter down.

It had stopped raining, only a barely-there sprinkle left behind, that was more on and off than anything else.

Ross had started carving on the walls with one of the knives in their supply, drawing little pictures or writing words. The lines were scratchy and more often than not misshapen. He had started on the left side of the wall, filling his wooden canvas up with sketches and words, moving on towards the right side when it started to get crowded.

Smith always watched with fascination, watching the way Ross’ hand moved and brow furrowed. He’d bite down on his lip, or lick at them until they were dry and chapped. As time went one, Smith watched his muscles seem to relax more as he did his carvings. They were no longer tense, and his lines slowly stopped being as jerky.

Smith also practiced his walking over the couple days, pacing slowly around the small compact room they were stuck in. Ross had to help him at first, had to urge him and nearly force him to put the slightest bit of pressure on his ankle so he could exercise it. He seemed to get a bit better. The ache had faded drastically, and Trott’s words floated in his mind reminding him that it was probably _just a minor sprain_. The only reason it was dragged on for too long was because of him forcing himself to run on it before, possibly harming it further. Nonetheless, the muscle was healing.

Ross had said that they were lucky that it was healing, because an injury (especially one involving legs or feet) were absolutely terrible in the situation they were in. For the past year, they had been used to walking miles upon miles each day, starting when the sun rose and only resting as night started to fall. Ross had seemed terribly worried about it ever since they had been reunited. He would always check on it, remind Smith to stretch it out no matter how much it hurt. It wasn’t even _that_ bad, but Smith really didn’t like the whole prospect of the pain it brought.

It was warm on that fourth morning. The sun shined through the gaps in the ceiling and old rotting walls. Birds chirped happily, humming sweet melodies. The breeze whispered gentle secrets and compliments, and gently roused the two sleeping men from their slumber.

They had agreed upon this earlier. They knew what the day was bringing. Their movements weren’t rushed as they started to pack up. They were slow and sluggish, with no words spoken between them. Ross and Smith spoke with their eyes, looking at each other for brief periods of times, their thoughts easily spilling from their gazes. The feeling was somber, tinged with a sort of regret and worry that made it feel like something was chewing away at their stomachs.

They left behind empty food cans and water bottles along with two of each that they could spare. Ross had hurriedly carved a brief message into the wall with as much finesse as he could muster. The words were spelled to the best of his abilities, simple phrases with the correct punctuation (why he bothered with commas and periods he did not know). It was a message for Trott specifically, one that wrote that they were now headed further west, behind the small hills to see if they could find a nice place to set up for awhile.

He had scrawled that out while Smith paced around the room. This was after he had organized things into bags, make sure they had everything they needed. He tried not to look over and pry into what Ross was writing, deeming that it was personal and a bit rude to read over.

Within a couple of minutes Ross had finished, dropping the dull knife to the floor and sighing. He stood slowly, brushing the dust off his knees before turning to face Smith.

“Everything’s ready,” he questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Smith nodded. “Everything is ready.”

~~~

“Y’know, I feel like winter is a little bit late this year.”

Smith looked over at Ross, brow furrowed. “Well, I mean-we have no way to _really_ tell what day it is. Winter doesn’t officially start until December 21st, and even then it really doesn’t get snowy here until-”

“Yeah, yeah Mr. Weatherman I know the logistics of it,” Ross scoffed. He reached up and wiped the sweat off his brow. He shifted the bag on his right shoulder over again. “I just mean- it feels like it should’ve snowed or something by now.”

“Maybe the weather is just being nice to us this year,” Smith shrugged.

Their pace was slow as they sauntered forwards. Ross didn’t want to force Smith to go too fast, being that his ankle wasn’t perfectly healed and he would probably have some trouble catching up. So, they strolled almost leisurely, ignoring the ache of their backs as they trekked up this hill that now seemed a lot larger than it had in retrospect.

“Yeah, I suppose I shouldn’t jinx it,” Ross muttered, smiling to himself.

“Yeah, don’t you dare. The rain has finally stopped, and that’s a blessing on it’s own.”

“Yeah, the apocalypse happens and the weather doesn’t seem to stop being depressing as fuck, huh,” Ross mumbled.

Smith shook his head. “Nope. It just gets worse because you’re soak and wet and also you might get eaten alive now.”

Ross snorted. “Way to look on the bright side.”

“Well I mean, I may have described the dark side, but I’m still looking towards the light,” Smith shrugged. He glanced over at Ross, biting his lip to hold back an almost in-awe grin.

“Ah- and, what’s the bright side in this, Smith?” Ross panted. His breath was just a bit short, as was Smith’s. They had droned out the panting in each other’s voices at this point. They couldn’t be bothered to stop talking and properly breathe in and out. It’d just get boring.

Smith’s grin grew at Ross’ reply, and replied as smoothly as he could manage. “Well, I’m stuck with you, Ross. That’s not so bad.”

The words settled into Ross’ mind, and he flushed. It didn’t really matter, being that his cheeks were already rosy from the contrast of the cool breeze and the raised-warmth of his body due to the bags he was lugging along. Nonetheless, his brain seemed to malfunction slightly, and he cursed himself for it because nothing Smith said was really anything that should make his stomach lurch like it just did.

Ross laughed and shook his head, though. “Aw, you flatter me mate,” he teased, smiling over at him. “But, if you’re trying to get into my pants, its not working.”

Smith smirked. “Aw, dammit, really? I thought I had you?”

“Nope,” Ross replied, popping the ‘p’ sound.

The slowly descended into a comfortable silence, as the banter grew tired and dreary. The two continued up the hill, legs aching with the need for rest and heads pounding at the effort they put into the climb upwards. They were lucky they had gotten somewhat fit during the year they had been out here, otherwise by now they’d be royally screwed.

The two of them had developed quite a bit of muscle from the constant strain of activities and surviving they’d been put through. Their legs were now toned, as were their arms, and their bellies were considerably tighter than they remembered (although Smith’s was still soft in that adorable sort of way, or so Trott and Ross secretly thought).

They were lucky they hadn’t run into any infected upon their journey. None of the bastards seemed to be lurking upon the hill, and even if they were Smith and Ross were in a position where they would be able to see the threat easily.

The hills seemed a bit desolate. The grass was dry and short, a lighter green color that crunched under their boots. There were no trees sprinkled about, now bushes or real shrubbery anywhere. Then again, the fields really weren’t like that either. It seemed the area they were in was dry and infertile, a wasteland created by overfarming and years of desertification. That’s why, they supposed, that even the massive amounts of rain couldn’t do much for the area. It would probably take years for things to be fertile enough to start really growing again.

Once they had reached the top of the hill, both of them felt like they wanted to keel over and die. Smith dropped the bags to the floor, kneeling down and immediately searching for their stash of water.

“Fuck, my ankle is killing me.”

“We can rest up for a bit,” Ross commented. He dropped his bags much more carefully, seating himself criss-cross applesauce across from Smith.

The man in front of him practically chugged the whole bottle of water, the liquid spilling down his chin and soaking into his already sweat-soaked jacket. Ross winced.

“Might wanna take that off, mate,” he murmured, reaching for the bag himself and grabbing a bottle. He took huge glugs of it much more mannerly, not spilling a single drop. Ross set his half-gone bottle of water on the grassy-floor, and glanced back at Smith.

The man finished chugging the bottle, and was reaching for a second. Ross’ fingers paused on the zipper of his jacket, and his brows furrowed.

“Don’t you dare, Smith,” he muttered lowly, the bite to his voice nothing more than bark. He smirked at Smith’s alarmed glance upwards, and giggled when an empty bottle was chucked at him.

“Mate, I’m exhausted and thirsty as fuck, let me take a god-damned drink.”

“Nuhuh,” Ross shook his head. He leaned forwards quickly, before Smith could react, and swiped the bottle from his hands. “Preservation, Smith. We’ve went through a lot of food while we sat around useless for nearly a week.”

“You gotta be kidding, after _that_ ,” Smith reasoned, gesturing towards the way they had just climbed up.

“Yeah,” Ross nodded. He set the bottle down. “You’ve just barely sat down. Take off your jacket, take a couple of deep breaths, and let your body relax. Drowning yourself isn’t the answer, it’ll just make your sides hurt.”

Smith pouted. “This is bullshit.”

“Smith, you’re redder than a bloody cherry, stop arguing and take some deep breaths. We can camp up here for the night,” Ross spoke, a calm edge to his voice as he resumed his attempt to pull off his jacket. He unzipped it, then shimmied off both of the sleeves, folding the garment nicely and setting it to the side.

Smith stared at him with wide eyes. “You’re joking, right?”

Ross raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“You wanna camp _outside_.”

Ross rolled his eyes and sighed. “There’s not much that can get us on this giant hill,” he explained, gesturing around. “No infected could ever wander up here, we’ll be fine.”

“I really don’t think so,” Smith objected, with a firm shake of the head. “I mean it’s-” He looked towards the sun. The sky was already darkening, the setting sun painting the sky reds and golds. He pursed his lips.

“We won’t be able to make it down the hill in time, and even if we do, then what? Wander around at night where infected _can_ get us,” Ross questioned.

Smith sighed. “Maybe you’re right.”

Ross hummed, smiling proudly. “Ahuh. I am.”

“You’re a bastard.”

“I know.”

“We’ll take watches.”

“That’s fine.”

“I call sleeping first.”

“Fine.”

~~~

_Hey, Trott. Smith and I were hung up here for awhile. We found each other, don’t worry. We tried to wait up for you, but you still aren’t here and we’re running low on things. Smith’s ankle is getting better, and so we’ve decided we’re going to leave. We think we’re gonna keep going west, for now, over the hills. We wanna find a place to set up for a while, as in for the winter. We hope you can find us by then, and we promise we won’t stop looking. We both miss you terribly and couldn’t stand to ever see you again. So, we’ll see you later twat._

_PS: Thanks for the necklace. It’s really pretty, and apparently you’re really gay for me :p_

_PPS: Don’t worry, I’m really gay for you too, I think._


	8. A Little Place For Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps, that was what made it so strange. It was as if the house was inside some sort of time paradox, another dimension, a little tiny pocket of a whole other world where there was nothing wrong except for the silence and just how peculiar that both Ross and Smith knew it was.

Winter was there in an instant, seemingly overnight. The cool autumn breeze had left, replaced by something colder and harsher. Along with it, came more rain, rain that froze into hail or sometimes even snow. Or at least, that was what they were waiting for. **  
**

The first night of winter was clear. The sky was a light blue, like the color of a small frozen pond, or of a small child’s soft blanket. It was soft, easy to stare at, easy to focus in on and feel safer. It was like a breath of fresh air, though the fresh air nipped at your throat and lungs as it was inhaled.

The house on the edge of town was lovely. It was on a small hill, with a dirt path winding down, practically overgrown with weeds. The dirt path connected to a road, with cracked concrete and asphalt, faded lines going down the middle of the street. The street sign was old and rusted, tilting dangerously and tugging at the concrete that held its bottom in place. The name on the deep green sign was mostly covered, faded from time and the elements. The sign was crooked as well, as if someone took a hammer to it.

Everything on the street seemed crooked though.  It wasn’t like the outside world. Too quiet, yes, but actual quiet, with no deathly groans and moans to accompany it. Only birds, sometimes, chirping happily, yet not attracting any unwanted visitors.

It was old, but intact, homely, comfy. It was easy to settle into, easy to call their own. It was like stepping into your grandparent’s house, when you knew you would be spending the weekend there while your parents were out on vacation.  It was like comfy couches that you could sink into, sleep in even if they were far too small for your stature and your feet ended up hanging over the armrest. It was like homemade popsicles on a sunny day, with your favorite fruit flavoring and so brightly colored, and the juice would dribble down onto your light-colored shirt. It was like fresh baked cookies that your grandma had slaved over just for you, except... you knew that there was no cookies there.  Perhaps, that was what made it so strange. It was as if the house was inside some sort of  time paradox, another dimension, a little tiny pocket of a whole other world where there was nothing wrong except for the silence and just how peculiar that both Ross and Smith knew it was.

For a week, the house wasn’t trusted. They were on edge, more on edge, they supposed, than they would be if they were camping outside of a crowded city. Nowadays that was suicide, but it almost felt worst here.

This little pocket of whatever it was, couldn’t be trusted. They had been through too much terrible shit to seriously think that nothing could go wrong here. They waited, mostly in silence, for a horde to come raging through and steal their lives, or possibly a raiding group to steal their food and torture them, kick them out on the street with nothing but their pants and each other. They were waiting, their minds cooking up terrifying things that some rational part of their brains seriously doubted, but that didn’t stop the irrational part from worrying.

That week went by seemingly slowly. Smith had been out occasionally, going to the edge of the forest just down the hills, using an axe that they had found in the basement to cut up chunks of lumber and haul back up to the house. The den had a nice homely furnace, looking almost out of place and yet perfectly-fitting surrounded by semi-modern coffee table and sofas and shelves covered in knick-knacks or magazines that they hadn’t bothered moving.

They had slept by the furnace each night, on the floor, covered in blankets of their own and also ones that they had nabbed from the bedrooms and cabinets from upstairs. That along with those really nice memory-foam pillows that they sometimes put under their backs rather than their heads.

Ross hadn’t done much. He was quieter than usual, quieter than he had been before the incident. He had cooked their food, warmed soup up over the little pan or pot holder that the furnace had so nicely provided. Ross had organized things, counted the numerous supplies they had in their bags multiple times over that week. He had read through three of those magazines, that were mostly advertisements and recipes for things that before all this he would probably love trying to make.

The house, strangely, was quite well equipped for the apocalypse. Smith had guessed because it was so far from the city, or maybe the people that had lived there before were doomsday preppers. There was tons of non-perishable food in the basement, and a few days in they had discovered electricity that ran through the kitchen, bathroom, and den supplied by a generator in the basement that could only be used when clicked on. The water was still running and there was a nicely-kept well just at the bottom of the hill.

The whole place was surrounded by a large picket fence. The gate that had let them in was small, with a big sign hanging over the top with the family name “Johnson” inscribed on it (or that was what was assumed). The two had thought a farmhouse, possibly, but that was a stretch because there weren’t any noticeable fields around. Whatever it was, the two hadn’t dwelled on it for long. This apocalypse paradise felt too good to be true, and the two of them had refused to trust it…

When the week ended, however, the two slowly relaxed.

~~~

“Ross, what the hell are you doing?”

Smith stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at the dark-haired man who had his hands full with a large mattress stripped of its bedclothes.

Ross looked back down at him  and smiled briefly, before looking back up towards it. He was at the corner of the stairs, where they turned sharply to the left before coming down the rest of the way to the bottom floor. The mattress was stuck there, caught on the railing at the edge of the other wall.

“I’m bringing the mattress down,” Ross explained, slightly out of breath. “It’s kinda heavy, not as heavy as I expected, and kinda bigger.”

“Is that the one from the master bedroom?”

Ross paused, then nodded.

“Yeah, why?”

“Ross, that’s at least a King size.”

“I’m aware,” Ross nodded, taking another step down. He made a frustrated sound when the edge of the railing jabbed into his back, and he nearly lost grip of the mattress.

“Why are you bringing the mattress down?”

“I’m tired of sleeping on the floor. It hurts my back, and we’ve been through enough shit I think we deserve the luxury of the furnace as well as a mattress.”

Smith sighed, shaking his head. He watched for a little while longer, as Ross managed to turn the mattress just enough so that he could continue pulling it down the stairs. The sound of triumph he made was what caused a smile to find its way onto Smith’s lips, gentle and fond as he watched Ross slowly pull it down.

“You… You could’ve waited for me, Ross. I would’ve helped you.”

“You were busy with more important things, and I rarely do things around here. This is the least I can do,” Ross shot back. He glanced down again at Smith. “Can you move, I kinda need to get this down here.”

Smith chuckled and took a step to the edge of the hall, grabbing the edge of the railing, watching as Ross lugged the mattress the rest of the way down. It jolted with each step it fell down, shaking slightly.

Ross managed to get it all the way down the steps, smiling when it lay flat against the hard wooden floor of the hallway. He leaned it against the wall, and let go slowly. He looked over at Smith with a smug, shit-eating grin.

“Impressive, yeah?”

“Mm, yeah, very,” Smith spoke sarcastically, laughing when Ross pouted.

“I wasn’t talking about me, I was talking about the mattress, dumbass. It’s huge, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Smith nodded, this time much more sincerely. He ran his fingertips over it, smiling at how soft it felt. “Man, it’s been ages since we slept on a bed.”

“Mhm. I’m looking forward to it,” Ross grinned. He was slightly flushed from pulling it down here, and he stripped his jacket off and stepped out into the den to throw it onto one of the couches. “I had to move all the furniture in the den, around. Now it kinda looks fucked up, and the coffee table is in the kitchen, but oh well.”

Smith nodded, pretending he didn’t enjoy the look of Ross in a tight fitting shirt. He walked up to the opposite end of the mattress, and put his arms on either side of it, digging his fingertips in to get some sort of grip.

“Want me to help you the rest of the way?”

“Don’t you want to take a shower after grabbing the lumber,” Ross asked. He stepped towards the mattress though, reclaiming his grip on it and looking around it to glance at Smith.

“Nah, I’m alright. I’d rather keep the heat of it for a bit, considering how freezing it is.”

“Already getting colder,” Ross questioned. The first week of winter was considerably mellow. There wasn’t any snow yet, no rain, though considerably colder nights and days (though not unbearable yet).

“Yeah. Maybe you can come out with me tomorrow, help with the lumber, and we can collect a lot more to store. Maybe tie us over for awhile,” Smith proposed.

“Ooh, very responsible, Mr. Smith. Planning ahead.”

Smith snorted a short laugh and nodded.

“Yeah, incredibly responsible. Not like there’s much planning you can do nowadays anyway. Never know when something’s gonna come and fuck shit up.”

“Gotta point there,” Ross agreed. He let out a breath. “Alright, let’s go then. We’ll have to turn it before we get to the doorway.”

It took a few minutes for them to manage to get the mattress through the doorway. They bickered nearly the whole time, yelling insults at each other and laughing at their miscommunication and how the mattress nearly fell over and crushed Ross twice.

“You idiot! Ross,” Smith wheezed, nearly losing grip on the thing when Ross yelped and was squished between the corner of the doorway and the mattress.

“SMITH! Fucking- ouch!”

They teased each other mercilessly, obscenities flying crassly, though with no bite behind them.

“You twat nearly killed me!”

“What a way to go,” Smith chuckled. “Squished between a mattress in the zombie-fucking-apocalypse.”

By the time they had it lying on the ground, they realized they had laid it down the wrong way and had to stand it up again to flip it over. Then, by the time when they had it on the ground properly, they were equally exhausted and having trouble breathing (mostly from laughter).

Ross shoved at Smith, who was still laughing at the fact that Ross had tripped over the leg of the couch.

“You’re such an asshole,” Ross shouted, trying to hold back a smile at the way that Smith’s face was flushed with giggles.

“You love me, though,” Smith smirked, finally calming down with a deep sigh.

Ross shrugged and nodded.

“Yeah, you’re still an asshole though.

~~~

“It’s cold as balls out here,” Ross complained, the literal second they walked out the door.

Smith rolled his eyes, axe resting between the juncture of his shoulder.

“Says the guy who has been inside making soup and redecorating since we got here.”

“Shut the fuck up. I made you soup! I’m just trying to be a good housewife, alright!” Ross fake cried, and Smith just laughed as he continued down the path of the hill.

He traversed it impressively, unlike Ross who was trying not to fall due to the steepness of it. Every step he took looked practiced, his toe and heel pressing into different places on the path where they held better and did not simply slip off without any traction (unlike what Ross did multiple times).

“It’s okay, Linda,” Smith sighed. “Maybe Daddy will buy you some new shoes and fuck you nice tonight.”

“Oh God,” Ross’ face screwed up in disgust, laughing slightly at Smith’s words. “I’m not sure if that was truly offensive, funny, or disgusting.”

“All three?”

“Probably.”

Smith opened the gate slowly, holding it open for Ross as he leapt down the last foot of the path, not bothering with trying to step down. He passed through the gate, and Smith bowed with a quiet “m’lady.”

They walked together towards the line of trees. The smaller, skimpier ones were almost nonexistent, tiny stumps left behind.

“So, how am I going to help again?”

“I’ll chop, you bring it back to the gate,” Smith explained. “It’ll be faster, then when we’re done, we’ll haul it back up to the house.”

“How is that helpful at all?”

“I can keep chopping and in the long run we won’t have to walk as much.”

“I will,” Ross complained.

“Oh no, poor you.”

They worked together, never in silence. Ross walked back and forth between Smith and the front gate stacking the lumber in nice piles before walking back to Smith who had a messy pile ready for him. They seemed to forget where they were, the unspoken rule of silence when they were outside. They shouted to each other when Ross was near the gates and Smith was still chopping away. They laughed loudly, no filters or efforts to be quiet.

They worked for hours. The early morning sun had moved high in the sky, trying hard to shine past the thick clouds blocking it.

By that time, Smith was a sweaty mess. His hair was stuck to his forehead, matted down and terribly annoying as he brought the axe down over and over again onto pieces of wood.

Ross had walked up behind him, pausing at the sight. Fuck, he had to admit that Smith was quite the looker. He almost wished that it wasn’t so cold, that Smith could take his shirt off and continue doing this all day.

“Smith, mate?”

“What,” Smith grunted, finishing one last cut before turning around.

“C’mon, let’s head in,” Ross suggested. He pointed back to the stacks of lumber. “I already took some to the basement for storing, and it’s already noon. You’re probably starved, and definitely need a shower.”

Smith frowned.

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not, c’mon. Don’t be a bastard about this, we have plenty of wood. It’ll last us awhile.”

“You sure you have plenty of wood mate? I thought your prick was a tiny thing,” Smith laughed, though he dropped his arm and let his axe hang down by his side.

Ross sighed and shook his head, smiling.

“You’re still a dirty bastard, after all this?”

“Yep, same old Smith,” he beamed, following Ross when the dark-haired man turned and started on his way back towards the house. “Got a problem with that, Rossy?”

“No, it’s nice, honestly,” Ross hummed.

“Really? Me? A salty prick? Nice?”

“It’s like old times, all nostalgic and shit. Things may be changing, but at least I still have you,” Ross sighed, voice quieter, more sincere.

Smith processed the words slowly, letting their meanings fill his mind with confusion and fondness. He bit his lip, holding back a small smile at the sweet connotation of Ross’ words.

“Was that a compliment?”

Ross glanced back, shrugging.

“I guess?”

Smith nodded and smiled, watching Ross’ brow furrow as he turned back.

They spent the rest of the day dragging lumber down to the basement, where it should be safe from the upcoming onslaught of snow and rain.

~~~

“Y’know how you said earlier that I haven’t changed?”

Ross looked up slowly from his bowl of soup, looking over Smith, before nodding and humming an affirmative sound. Smith sat on the opposite side of the mattress, which they had fit between the juncture of the two couches. He leaned up against the couch, sat with his legs folded and his bowl of soup in his hands, almost gone.

“Have I really not?”

Ross paused.

“Not much, honestly,” Ross shrugged. He didn’t understand why Smith was so curious about it. “You’re still Smith. Still an asshole, still funny. Maybe a bit fitter now, with longer hair and a proper redneck beard,” he paused when Smith snorted, then continued. “You’re just- you’re still Smith.”

Smith nodded as he took in the information. He hadn’t thought he really changed, hadn’t hoped that the post-apocalyptic world would’ve changed him in some crazy way, or turned him into a badass main character of a T.V. show or anything like that.

“Did you think that you were different, or that you had changed,” Ross asked.

“No, but I just-” Smith struggled with a way to word it. “You, you’ve changed. I was wondering, if… if I had too.”

“I changed?”

“More recently, I think,” Smith explained. He didn’t want to say it outright, didn’t want to be rude, but Smith never had any filters, and hadn’t seemed to grow any ever since this started. “When, when we met again… You’re… You’re different now, I guess.”

Ross paused, spoon still in between his lips. He didn’t look up at Smith, just set his spoon in his bowl. He was almost done with it, and set it aside besides the mattress, making sure it was far enough away that neither of them would accidentally knock it over.

“Not in a bad way,” Smith started again, before Ross could even try to ask what he meant. “Not very much either, you’re just- christ, Ross you’re almost more _mature_.”

Ross snorted, finally looking up at Smith with raised eyebrows.

“No, really-” Smith insisted. “Just- you’re, you’re quieter now. You worry more, are more concerned about… well, I guess _my_  well-being than your own. You just- I guess you’ve always been like that, though? Just didn’t really show before now?”

Ross stared at Smith for a while, confused.

“I’m still sort of lost, but… I get what you’re saying, I think… sort of…”

“See, you’re still dense. That’s one thing- hey! Watch the soup!”

Ross chucked a pillow at Smith’s head, nearly making him spill his hot bowl of soup over himself. Ross giggled as Smith frowned at him, chucking the pillow back and missing Ross by a longshot.

They fell into silence.

“I- I really don’t know what I was trying to say when I brought it up,” Smith shrugged, sighing. He brought his bowl up to his lips, tipping it out and drinking the contents that spilled onto his tongue.

Ross watched him, watched as he then proceeded to stand up. Smith extended a hand, and ross (after a moment) took the hint and handed him his own empty bowl and spoon. Within a couple moments, Ross heard the sound of water running and humming.

He tried to understand what Smith meant, but really couldn’t place it. He didn’t think he was very different, besides the obvious differences in physical aspects and he supposed being more alert in mental aspects. He might just be more open, now, allowing Smith to see parts of him he never showed before. He was always concerned for his best friends’ well-being, though before he was probably much more subtle about the deep love (both platonic and possibly more, now) he had for both of them.

Smith wandered back in a few moments later, still humming a tune that Ross did not recognize.

“You’re still an amazing singer,” Ross murmured, watching Smith sit down in his spot again.

Smith paused the humming, smiling at Ross before continuing, mumbling atual sweet-sounding words. They were soft, smooth, and made Ross smile as he listened intently.

It was incredibly intimate, really. Smith sung as if it was just for Ross, just for him, for nobody else in the world to hear besides himself. Ross found himself flustered, realizing Smith was staring at him, singing a sappy love song.

The song slowly came to an end, a soft closing. Ross stayed quiet, unsure if he should really say anything, if he should even be feeling like that song was for him. Of course, it wasn’t. It couldn’t me. It was just Smith, just Smith singing.


	9. This Place Could Be Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can thank Vex for this being posted hella early.

“Fuck this,” Smith gasped, shivering as he slammed the door shut behind him. His coat was covered in a thin layer of ice, and he felt as if the deepest part of him was frozen solid. **  
**

Ross looked up from the book he was reading, deep into the climax of a novel that he was only interested in because of his boredom. He watched as a very cold looking Smith walked in, beard sprinkled with flakes of white.

“Jesus, Smith. You’re freezing,” Ross exclaimed. Worry was etched into his features as he quickly marked his place in his book and set it aside. He stood from his place on the couch, bounding over the mattress and walking over to Smith.

“Yeah, yeah. Went on a little walk,” Smith sighed. He dropped a duffle bag on the floor, letting Ross fuss over him.

“How far did you go?”

“To the city, stopped in a few shops, came back,” Smith sighed. “Fell in a pond.”

“A pond?!” Ross held the back of his hand to Smith’s forehead, hissing at the frigid feeling of his skin. His fingers moved down to his beard, the warmth of his hand melting away the tiny crystals of ice.

“Yeah, a pond,” Smith growled bitterly. He felt soaked to the bone, every part of him exhausted and heavy.

Ross looked down at him, frowning when he noticed that Smith was dripping with cold water, making a mess on the hardwood floor. He sighed, looking up at Smith with concern.

“You’re gonna get yourself sick, idiot.” Ross’ fingers moved deftly down to the zipper of Smith’s lighter jacket, he pulled it down, wincing as he started to shimmy the wet fabric down his arms.

“Yeah, yeah,” Smight sighed. He allowed Ross to fuss over him, to pester him with lots of good-willing words and concerns for his safety.

“Okay, hold on.” Ross started on towards the hallway, jacket in-hand. “Go to the bathroom, I’ll meet you there.”

Smith did as he was told, whole body sagging as he waited for Ross to return. He felt absolutely boneless and numb, and pretty tired too.

Ross came back a few moments later, a large garbage bag. He hung it on the doorknob, coming forward to stand in front of Smith. He reached down to grab the bottom of his shirt.

“C’mon, raise your arms, help me out here,” Ross requested, voice gentle but commanding. It was clear that he wasn’t for messing around right now, and it made Smith’s mood improve just a bit. It was sweet and endearing, how Ross looked so worried for him, and it made him less stubborn and more willing to comply to Ross.

Smith did as he was told, allowing Ross to pull the shirt over his head. Ross put the wet fabric into the bag, then turned again. He was about to reach for his jeans, and Smith probably would’ve let him, but then Ross paused and he took a step back.

“You get undressed the rest of the way, I’m gonna run the shower okay? Or- would you rather a bath?” His face flushed pleasantly, mind suddenly filled with panicked screaming at the fact that he was just about to _undress Smith all the way._

“Shower, probably,” Smith mumbled, voice quiet and subdued. He watched as Ross moved over to the shower, pulling back the curtains and reaching for the handle. He turned it towards the warm water and  put his hand under the faucet, waiting for the cold water to turn warm.

Smith stopped watching at this point, turning instead towards the garbage bag that hung on the doorknob. He moved his numb fingers towards the button of his jeans, popping it open and proceeding to unzip them. He slowly started to pull them down, then nearly cursed at himself for forgetting he was wearing shoes and disgustingly wet socks. He leaned back against the counter, bringing his feet up (one at a time) and pulling off both his shoes. He threw those in the bag, as well as his socks that made gross mushy sounds. He finally pulled off his jeans, not very happy with how they clung to his legs. His fingers found the waistband of his boxers, and quickly pulled those down and off as well, dropping them into the bag.

The air in the house was considerably cold, and he winced as it came into contact with his damp body. His hair raised on ends, and he stood tense, hoping that Ross would get the water running soon. He heard the shower start.

“Alright, the water is-” Ross started, turning on his heel once he was happy with the warmth of the water. He nearly fell over at the sight of Smith’s behind, completely pale and _bare_. “SMITH!” Ross shrieked and closed his eyes, slapping a hand over his face.

Smith turned around, laughing quietly to himself. He would’ve been nearly crying if it weren’t for the terrible cold that made him feel miserable.

“Geez, Ross. Never seen an ass before,” Smith smirked. He waltzed over to the shower, feeling smug as he went. He put his hand under the warm water, testing it, and turned back to say something to Ross. The thing from before, the way Ross fussed over him, it must’ve put him in a flirty mood or something. He figured, after all, he’d waited enough time to start trying to make some actual moves. Those cute compliments and fleeting touches were normal for him, as was the cuddling (though now he made sure he held Ross much closer to his chest when they slept). How was he supposed to get his best friend to kiss him, if he did nothing out of the ordinary to make it clear that he wanted to be kissed?

“You can take your hand off your eyes now.”

“No I can’t, especially if you’ve turned around,” Ross explained. His cheeks were flush, his blood coursing warm and his mind screaming at him. Seeing Smith’s ass wasn’t necessarily scarring, but it was just surprising. In all honesty (from the short glance Ross had), his ass looked pretty nice, but now /was not the time to be pining over your cold, sick best friend who might die if he doesn’t get into the shower and stop being a huge prick/.

“God, stop acting as if my ass is the end of the world,” Smith laughed. He pulled his arm away from the spray of the water, eager to get in. But first…

Smith stepped forward, behind Ross, grabbing his shoulder and leaning in to whisper into his ear.

“Infact, my ass is just the beginning,” Smith whispered. Without a second of hesitation, he brought his hand down against Ross’ behind, making a startled gasp come from the man.

Ross turned quickly in shock, about to yell some terrible insults at Smith. However, he had forgotten  about the fact that his friend was naked. Ross paused with his mouth open, eyes wide as they skimmed over Smith. /Fuck/. He really hadn’t meant to (or maybe he did), but Smith sure didn’t seem to mind as he stood there smugly, definitely aware of where exactly Ross was staring.

“That’s right, lover boy,” Smith cackled. He finally hopped into the shower, closing the shower curtains behind him. “Feel free to hop in with me, babe.” He tried to make his voice as teasingly-flirty as he possibly could, leaving Ross there shocked and mortified. Smith was disappointed (though not surprised), when he heard very quick receding footsteps from the bathroom, and the door closing.

~~~

Smith came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. He was almost surprised to hear noises from the kitchen, clattering and some terrible humming. He smiled fondly though, walking past and into the living room.

There was a fresh set of clothes set out waiting for him. Some jeans, and socks, a black t-shirt and a deep red jumper. He got dressed, finding the boxers that were underneath all of the clothes (a pair he recognized as Ross’ and not his own).

He strolled into the kitchen after he was dressed, feeling much nicer and warmer, albeit tired and definitely in need of some rest. When Ross had left, he turned the water to a nearly-scalding point, happy that the heater was still running as he stood in there for what felt like a century before he stepped out. His skin flushed pink from the water, and his stomach still felt in knots from what had occurred in the restroom.

“Hey,” he announced, stepping in and leaning on the counter besides where ross was preparing something.

Ross looked over at him, blush apparent on his face, though he smiled and nodded and said nothing. He looked back to his hands, which were chopping what looked like smaller carrots.

“Ah, so you found what was in my bag,” Smith smiled knowingly.

“Yeah, how the _hell_ did you find vegetables?”

“Found a little nursery, with a shit ton of plants overgrown and starting wild farms of their own. I dug up some carrots and potatoes, figuring those were the easiest to deal with,” Smith explained. “There were weeds everywhere, flowers everywhere. It was really pretty, honestly.” He paused, thinking over his words for a moment, before he decided he wanted to say this. “Reminded me of you, really.”

Ross flushed even deeper, pausing in his chopping.

“Well,” he continued, pretending like he didn’t hear what Smith said. “It’s amazing. Maybe during the winter, we can use one of the spare rooms with lots of light. Y’know the master bedroom, the bed frame, it could definitely be filled with soil and we can probably figure out a way to turn it into a makeshift planter.”

“That seems like it’s for long-term things, doesn’t it? A little farm?”

“We’re going to be here for awhile.”

“I thought we were leaving after winter, y’know? Retrace our steps? Go find Trott.”

Again Ross paused, fingers tensed. Hearing his name always made something in Ross twinge, made him feel sad and guilty, achey. He set the knife down carefully, sweeping the carrots into his hand before dropping them into an otherwise empty pot in front of him. He grabbed the potatoes next, only three of the ones that Smith grabbed.

“Yes, but this is a good place to come back to afterwards, is it not? Electricity, water, food, it’s quiet… Kinda like a home,” Ross shrugged, mumbling near the end of the sentence.

“We shouldn’t make permanent homes, should we,” Smith questioned. “That seems like the mistake of all zombie apocalypse survivors, does it not?” He somewhat said the last part in a mocking tone, and a part of him knew that quarrelling with Ross wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had.

“Those are television shows, Smith,” Ross argued. He peeled the potato carefully, having to use the knife, mindful of his fingers. “This is real life, nobody would bother to check a house this close to the city. We haven’t seen people in ages anyway, who the hell would come out here during all of this?”

“To avoid the infected,” Smith suggested. “To find supplies, even if not much, plenty to hold them over. Ross, just from what I found ransacking a few shops, this place is a _gold mine_. There’s so much shit here and-”

“Nobody else knows that!”

“Eventually they’ll find it!”

Ross took a deep breath, starting to chop the potato into slivers.

“Listen, Smith, when we do find him, imagine how happy he’ll be to have a permanent place to stay? A safe place to sleep at night? We can find ways to reinforce the fences, like I mentioned before _farming_. I know a farm a couple hours from here had livestock, we could probably bring some back, we could live here and-”

“You are being bloody mental, right now, Ross.”

“No I’m not! This is perfectly realistic thinking,” Ross snapped. He looked up at Smith, who was looking at him as if he was insane. “Stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m stupid, it’s annoying and condescending.”

“I’m not being condescending. It’s just- once the winter is over we’re going to move on, like we did last year. You know that.”

“Neither of us know shit. Why can’t we try something else, something here?”

“It’s not like there’s much room to stretch and things to mess with when our lives are at stake, Ross.” Smith watched Ross’ hands, the way they were tense, his knuckles nearly white as they peeled the potato, with a  bit less caution than before.

“We have plenty of supplies, a safe place, right now would be the perfect time!”

“When we get comfortable is when stuff goes bad.”

“Anything can go bad at anytime! Neither of us are letting our guard down.”

“Oh please, you think I can’t see it? Ross you’re sitting here reading books, while I go out and chop wood and go search for supplies and-”

“What?! Are you complaining now? About how much work you have to do? Y’know I _offered_ to go, but you said that it was fine and you could handle it. Then here I am, coming up with an idea, and you shoot it down instantly. Y’know Smith, who said you had the ultimate say it what I can and can’t do?”

“You’re being terribly difficult right now, christ,” Smith sighed deeply. He closed his eyes, realizing his mistake in coming in here in the first place. His mistake in being a huge flirty prick in the first place.

“ME? TERRIBLY DIFFICULT,” Ross raised his voice, going from irritated to genuinely angry at this point. “YOU’RE THE ONE WHO- OW! FUCK!”

Smith heard the sound of a knife clattering to the counter, of Ross’ pained exclamation. He looked up, eyes widening at the sight of Ross clutching his index finger on his left hand. There was a huge slice going across it on the inside, cutting deep, blood soaking down the appendage.

“Shit, Ross! Are you okay?” Smith rushed forward, and Ross just stepped back and away. Smith tried to hide the hurt on his face, more concerned with Ross’ well-being if he was honest with himself.

“No, obviously not,” Ross muttered, indignantly. The slice went in easy, soft and smooth, but it stung terribly now. It felt way too hot, like it was burning, and the pain of it throbbed through his finger.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, that was kinda my fault,” Smith murmured, voice soft.

“Can you just- get the first aid kit? Fuck, ouch,” Ross whined.

“Yeah, yeah sure, go sit down at the table,” Smith nodded, rushing off to go grab the kit from their bags in the den.

When he returned, Ross had a wet dish towel wrapped around his finger. He bit his lip, sitting tense on the edge of his seat.

Smith rushed forward immediately and sat down, opening the box and pulling out bandages and rubbing alcohol to clean it.

“That’s gonna need stitches, huh?” Smith grabbed the needle too, as well as the suture thread.

“Mhm, yep,” Ross groaned, teeth gritted. He laid his hand down on top of the damp towel, dabbing the cut gently and wincing at how it was soaked through with blood. “God, I’m stupid.”

“No, that was my fault, I’m sorry,” Smith shook his head. He grabbed a piece of cloth from the first aid kit, wetting it with the alcohol before turning back to Ross. “I shouldn’t have been fighting with you while you were holding a knife.”

Ross chuckled, sighing and letting out a noise of discomfort when Smith gently rubbed and dabbed the cut with the cloth.

“Yeah, look at us. A married couple practically.” Ross stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the sting and bubbling feeling of the rubbing alcohol. “Fighting over stupid things and taking care of each other when one of us falls into a fucking pond.”

“I mean, you’ve seen me naked now, officially,” Smith pointed out, earning another short, pained laugh from Ross. He dipped the needle into the rubbing alcohol, holding it there and making sure it was nice and clean. The last thing they needed was for an infected cut. With shaky hands, Smith threaded the needle. He tried to calm himself down, then grabbed Ross’ finger and pulled it closer.

Ross closed his eyes, and only hissed when he felt the first puncture.

“Yeah, yeah, true. Thanks for that, by the way,” Ross ground out, allowing for Smith to slowly and carefully stitch the cut closed. It wasn’t pleasurable, especially when the area was already irritated and in-pain

“Mm, sorry about that, also,” Smith nodded. He finished quicker than he expected, finding it easier than he thought it might be to do.

“Eh, you gotta nice dick,” Ross commented, mostly jokingly.

“Maybe you can give it a try sometime, hm,” Smith laughed, though he definitely wasn’t joking.

“Pft, yeah. You wish mate.”

He allowed Smith to continue cleaning the cut, making sure everything was good.

“Alright, there you go,” Smith sighed. He grabbed the bandage, and started wrapping it around Ross’ finger. “That was a nasty cut.”

“Yeah, bled quite a lot, huh,” Ross mumbled. He looked over to where he was standing before as he cut the vegetables, a trail of blood now leading from there to here.

“If you want, I’ll clean that up and finish cutting those vegetables for you? Maybe you can finish the part of whatever you’re cooking without cutting.”

“Mm, that’s a good idea.” Ross brought his hand closer to him once Smith finished bandaging it. He watched Smith clean up the mess of blood and medical supplies, bringing the needle over to the counter to wash off. “I was trying to make something a bit more interesting than regular soup,” Ross sighed. “There was some dried herbs in the cabinet, some rice, I was gonna make something a bit thicker to put over the rice, I guess. Thought it might taste good.”

“I’m sure it will, when you’re finished,” Smith hummed. “I’ll help you with it, though, okay? No more cutting yourself with a knife like an ametuer.”

“Hey you said it yourself, this was your fault, you twat.”

~~~

“Hm, not bad, Chef Ross.”

Ross rolled his eyes, and elbowed Smith lightly. They sat on the mattress together, leaning up against the couch with pillows behind their backs. They ate their soup-stew kinda thing, unsure of really what it would be categorized as. It really was delicious though, somewhat thick and poured over steamed rice. It had a kick of spice to it, that made both men’s mouths tingle as they ate bite after bite. Actually cooked food was good enough as it was, but extra spices (no matter what they were) tasted like heaven after so long without them.

“Hm? Really?”

“Mm, I’d give it a four out of five, I think,” Smith nodded. He took another bite, savoring the way the flavors and textures mingled in his mouth. “Spicy too, just perfect, really.”

“Well, I try,” Ross shrugged. “Guess I am a good housewife after all, hm?”

“The best,” Smith nodded, smiling. He looked over at Ross, eating his soup, focused more on the contents of his bowl than what was going on around him.

Smith really did think he was gorgeous. The pale skin, the bright blue eyes, the gorgeous pendant that hung around his neck just added to it. Ross’ dark hair was now peppered with gray, though just barely. Smith thought it looked handsome, though, gave him character.

“Are we um- gonna talk about how I kinda saw you naked?”

“You really want to?” Smith questioned, raising an eyebrow as he looked away from his friend. He looked around the room briefly, a place, he supposed, could be a sort of home. “You seemed very uninterested.”

Ross cleared his throat, blushing hard. Fuck, were they really going to have this conversation? He supposed they had to, at some point. Ross was getting tired of the looks, the casual flirting, that wasn’t just funny for the channel. Nowadays, shit like that had meaning, and he wanted to know what exactly all of what Smith was doing meant. The compliments, the touches, the looks, the… incident… all of it.

“That’s- Smith I-” Ross sighed, closing his eyes. “Why are you acting all… mushy… towards me?”

“‘Mushy’ as in?”

“The things you say, and the way you look at me, the things you do… Y’know I notice,” Ross mumbled, voice quieter. At this point he was just playing with his food, mixing the rice around with the quickly chilling soup. “I want to know if it’s just you being weird, or…”

“Or ‘mushy’?”

“Shut it,” Ross muttered quietly, setting his bowl aside and shoving at Smith.

Smith chuckled and looked over at him. Ross was so goddamn pretty.

“I think,” Smith finally spoke. He had finished his soup, set his bowl besides Ross with a contented sigh. He sat back, fingers laced casually in his lap. He ignored the fluttering in his stomach, the way his mind was screaming at him to not fuck this up. “I think… That you are so pretty, Ross.”

His voice was so soft and sincere, it made Ross’ heart stop for a beat,before suddenly bursting out of his chest and rendering him confused and breathless. The words being said, especially in /this/ context, made something inside of him flip, switch, jumble around until he felt like he was putty.

“And, I think… I really like you,” Smith concluded. “ I _like,_ like, you.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and Ross was about to speak, to respond, when he was interrupted.

“Scratch that,” Smith said. “I love you… In the gay way.”

“Hm, really?”

“Yes, really,” Smith laughed. “You think I’d make a joke about this shit, Ross? Really?”

“Well…”

“Shut up,” Smith laughed, shoving at Ross. “Alright then, pretty boy. You fess up. Confess your love to me!”

“Who said I loved you, you twat,” Ross huffed. He turned his head to look at Smith, smiling when he saw he was looking right back. He sighed, shaking his head. “I mean, I _do_ I guess, love you. I think. I mean, I’ve loved you for a long time, more in a platonic ‘bromance’ way, I guess… But… I don’t know… Now it’s different.” Ross blushed and looked down at his lap, lacing them together, feeling far too warm inside.

Smith raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk splitting his lips. Within seconds, Ross ended up laying on his back, Smith on top of him, an arm braced on either side of his head.

“How the fuck,” Ross yelped, realizing he was just tugged and straddled in a matter of seconds.

“So, this whole ‘love’ thing then, Ross,” Smith grinned. He looked down at Ross, smile sweet and gentle. He completely ignored Ross’ question, having practiced that move multiple times before, and finding the squeaks and yelps of the victims and then utter flabbergasted looks adorable.

“What about this whole ‘love’ thing, Alex?”

“Well,” Smith mumbled, dragging out the sound. “What should we do about it? To make it official?”

“To make love official? Mate, are you proposing to me?”

“Nah, not yet. Too soon,” Smith shook his head.

“Well then, I’m assuming you wanna shag me,” Ross questioned, groaning when Smith just smiled wider. “Smith… no….”

“C’mon Ross, I know you want me,” Smith groaned, making his voice comically deeper in a way that was not sexy in the slightest.

“Honestly, not up my ass, I don’t. The bun shop is closed for business, thank you.”

“Aw, really?”

“Maybe if you bribe me with some lube or something, christ. You are /not/ fucking me without lube,” Ross shook his head, a pained and slightly disgusted look crossing his face.

“So one day I _can_ fuck you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess,” Ross mumbled. “But- for now…”

“Mm, yes m’lord? I shall do anything to serve you.” Smith bowed his head slightly, and Ross giggled, flush in his cheeks darkening.

“I want you to kiss me,” Ross spoke, voice clearer than he thought he could manage. The words sounded foreign on his lips, especially when he was pinned down by none other than Alex Smith.

“Just a kiss, m’lord?”

Ross hummed and nodded, reaching a hand up to lazily run through Smith’s coppery locks. He made a mental note to try to convince Smith to brush his hair, or get a haircut. Or maybe tie it back with a hair tie.

“Yes, just a kiss.”

“How about two?”

“Two kisses?”

“Maybe three…”

“Christ, Smith, just kiss me already,” Ross whined.

Without a moment’s delay, Smith obliged. He dipped his head, eagerly meeting Ross’ lips with his own in a soft, gentle kiss. Ross made a small noise, fingers moving to the back of Smith’s head, holding him closer. Smith closed his eyes, feeling euphoria fill his veins.

Ross giggled against his lips, and that’s when Smith pulled back and smiled.

“Fuck, why is kissing so nice,” Ross smiled. “And addicting.”

“Because kissing feels nice,” Smith shrugged, heart aching at how adorable Ross looked.

“Well, feed my addiction. Kiss me again.”

Smith leaned down again, lips brushing Ross’ in a barely there kiss.

“My pleasure, m’lord.”


	10. We Must Keep Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim, Trott, and Duncan start moving to find Smith and Ross. Smith and Ross find a nice way to occupy their time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an NSFW scene later on in this chapter just btw... Also I didn't really edit it and sorry posting is inconsistent. Whoops.

“Would you rather, fuck me, or fuck Trott.”

Kim’s face screwed up in disgust. She glanced back at the two boys trailing behind her and sighed like a tired mother as they both started giggling like twelve-year-olds.

“Neither,” Kim muttered, rolling her eyes and turned back to see where she was walking. She expertly stepped over logs and ducked under branches, managing to navigate through the forest much better and more efficiently than either of the others.

“That’s not how the game works, Kim,” Duncan pointed out. He somewhat knew the forest, well, he knew it quite well, actually. But he was tall and his gangly limbs and clumsy tendencies didn’t help when there were lots of things he could trip over.

“Duncan, you might as well have asked me would you rather get herpes or chlamydia.”

Trott snorted. He had to admit, the banter between these two was quite hilarious. It was never usually quite as crass and crude as his own with Smith and Ross, but Kim and Duncan really weren’t _much_ better, maybe just slightly more tasteful and clever.

“I mean, chlamydia can actually be treated with antibiotics though, herpes just keeps coming back. So wouldn’t you chose chlamydia?”

Kim paused her walking, and cocked her head to the side in mock thought. Trott and Duncan both stopped behind her.

“Hm, I suppose you’re right.” She turned on her heel, and smirked over at Duncan before looking at Trott. “I guess I’d rather get with Trotty over here.”

Trott barked out a laugh, mostly at the way Duncan’s face dropped in realizing that he was just compared to herpes.

Kim smiled smugly before turning around again, and quickly getting back into the swing of avoiding obstacles and leading the two twats behind her through the forest.

~~~

“So camping, in a tent, doesn’t seem like the safest thing.”

Duncan chuckled and looked up from his book. He shrugged at Trott.

“No, but, it’s better than out in the open.”

“We might as well be,” Trott murmured.

It was late, probably around midnight. Trott, honestly, was too terrified to peak his head out and see how high the moon was, knowing the chance of sticking his face right into the awaiting teeth of an infected.

“Well, Trott, if you’d like to go sleep under the stars and put your claim to the test, be my guest.”

Trott frowned.

“No thanks.”

Duncan marked his place in his book, and set it down to the side.

“As long as we keep it down, we should be fine. We killed that infected and rubbed its guts all over the tent for a reason.”

“Yeah, but, I’m kinda just iffy about that working.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow.

“Ah yes, Trott. Question the person who has done research and experiments with these creatures and-”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Trott mumbled, raising his hands in surrender. “You can’t blame me for being a bit worried. Before, we would never camp out for the night in the open. We wouldn’t even bother sleeping if we were stuck. We’d just keep walking. That’s too dangerous.”

“Yeah, passing out in the dark is just as dangerous if you’re exhausted and don’t have sleep.”

Trott frowned.

“Yeah, okay, maybe you’re right about that, Mr. Zombie Expert.” He sighed and looked around the small tent. It wasn’t terrible. The torch in the middle provided a nice glow, enough for Duncan to read with and for Kim to sleep comfortably with. The girl was curled up in the corner, under a thick blanket. She slept soundly, seemingly so peaceful, and it made Trott just slightly jealous.

“Y’know, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Duncan started again. Trott looked up at him, and Duncan continued. “Do you even know where your friends could’ve gone to?”

Trott nodded. Of course he did. Right now, Ross and Smith were waiting for him in that farmhouse. They were eating well, sleeping comfortably, hopefully enjoying themselves as much as they could…

As much as it sounded selfish, a part of Trott really hoped they missed him. He hoped that they hadn’t just given up on him, hadn’t just forgotten.

“A farmhouse. I left Smith there, and Ross was supposed to meet him there after. They were supposed to stay and wait for me.”

“What if they didn’t?”

“They couldn’t have,” Trott denied. “They were safe, they had food, they had no reason to leave.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow, but nodded. He sighed and pulled his glasses from his face, taking a moment to rub his eyes.

“Well, I hope you’re right.”

  
Duncan set his glasses to the side, and reached for the torch. He flicked it off without warning, and set it to the side.

In the dark, Trott could make out the figure of him shuffling to settle down. Trott did the same, though he knew he couldn’t just drift off yet.

Duncan, on the other hand, couldn’t have been happier to get some shut eye. With a murmured “good night” his eyes fell closed and his breathing slowed.

He must’ve been exhausted, then again all of them were. They had hiked all day, having to go around to find a way to get around the river. Going through it was just not an option, it was far too cold. They were also trying to avoid the horde of infected that had terrorized them in the first place, nearly knocking down their base camp before wandering off to loiter through the forest.

They figured they had spread out quite a bit by now, and there were bound to be tons all throughout. They had spotted and heard quite a few, had to deal with a lot as well. It wasn’t that difficult though. Each of the survivors knew how to wield a weapon quite well, even Kim whose stature was nothing compared to any of the monsters. She was still able to shove a very sharp and shiny blade through their heads, after coaxing them down to her height of course (which mostly consisted of kicking their shins).

It was fascinating to watch both Duncan and Kim work together, really. Trott didn’t necessarily feel like an outsider to them, but he definitely felt that both of them had a sort of stronger connection (something that he’d most likely had with Ross and Smith). Duncan and Kim had their own routines, it seemed, how to take down infected together using their strengths and weaknesses. They had their own separate ways to do it of course, but watching them not even needing to speak to each other to figure out who was kicking the bastard down and who was beating its head in was a sight of its own.

The way they spoke to each other, too, was just slightly strange. Not much different than the banter between Trott and his other long lost friends, though.. It had the same feeling behind it,a  fond teasing with no real bite behind the harsh words they spoke. Albeit they were a lot less dirty, they did have their own sarcastic way to discuss filth and insult each other.

Trott had gotten to know the two of them quite well. They shared stories, mostly experiences of the present and not the past. They talked about where they started, where they were heading, what the hell they were doing even now. It seemed that Trott did most of the talking anyway, being that those two already knew about their adventures together, and really would rather learn about Trott’s.

Trott hadn’t minded discussing things at this point. He was fairly sure that Kim and Duncan were getting to know Smith and Ross quite well. Unlike them, Trott did speak about the past. He spoke about where he met Smith and Ross, how they ended up making Youtube videos and living together. He talked about how it started, where they were, how they dealt with it.

 He briefly delved into the whole experience that Ross had to go through, with his sister and younger niece. He felt bad halfway though, it didn’t feel right talking about Ross like that. He had finished the story off with “I’m sure you know how it ended” and of course, Duncan and Kim could figure it out.

Trott talked about how Smith liked to sing. He said that Smith had quite a beautiful voice, talked about how he used to be in choir and could play the guitar as well. His guitar was left behind when they left their home, though, and Smith didn’t really sing as much as he just hummed old songs that made Trott feel like they were back home, like everything was normal.

At this point, neither Duncan nor Kim questioned it or tried to stop Trott when he started tearing up as he spoke about his friends. They both understood, they both got it. Sometimes it was good to talk about things like that, even if it made you cry and make you miss them all that much more.

Kim quite enjoyed Trott being around them. She loved how Trott could fill the silence, how he could make both Duncan and herself laugh at his quirkiness and obvious passion for his friends. She loved hearing stories about Smith and Ross, loved hearing about how terribly filthy and rude they were, though Trott assured constantly that to their cores they were anything but. Kim believed him. She could tell. Some of the stories Trott told just made it so easy to feel the bond between the three of them, the admiration that they shared for each other, the love. If she was honest, she wouldn’t have been surprised if Trott had said that at least two of them had had a thing together. Trott just seemed to light up when he talked about them, in total awe of them. It made her smile, made her heart feel whole again recognizing that something so sweet could exist in a world that was so bitter.

She wasn’t really afraid to bring the fact up either, to suggest the possibility of a crush burning in Trott’s heart. He had laughed at her, of course, denied it. He said they were just very close friends, impossibly close, though she could tell he was holding something back. She could tell, that something turned slightly cold when he murmured that “they were all straight anyway.” Kim had snorted at that, because she really doubted (from what she had been told) that any of those boys were straight.

~~~

The edge of the forest seemed almost like the end of a rainbow. For a moment, all of them thought that it couldn’t be real. Surely it was just another clearing, it would just lead into more forest.

But once they stepped through the thinning wall of trees, all that could be seen was old fields filled with weeds, and a city in the distance.

Trott beamed, shouting out excited expletives as he ran out into the field. Duncan and Kim followed behind him, slower, quieter.

Duncan was about to open his mouth to tell Trott to shut up, but a gentle hand on his arm stopped him.

“Sh, let him. He’s excited.”

“Well I can see that, but in a minute he won’t be when hundreds of infected come out of the forest.”

“Oh shush, stop being such a party pooper,” Kim grinned. She patted Duncan’s arm lightly, then skipped ahead to meet up with Trott.

Duncan watched from behind as Kim was immediately enveloped in a hug by the brunet. He spun her around, smiling so wide that Duncan thought his gums might split. Kim laughed along with him, obviously excited for their friend.

Duncan shot an anxious glance over his shoulder, frowning when nothing looked out of the ordinary. The nearly non-existent leaves on the trees fluttered, and it only reminded him of the fact that winter was edging closer and closer. He sure hoped that that house was close. Maybe they could all hold up there for a bit, otherwise they might all be screwed.

~~~

“So, yeah, I had to lug a 6’5 _giant_ with a sprained ankle through this field, right,” Trott spoke. He seemed happier now, brighter. He was obviously incredibly excited to see his friends again. He talked louder, recounted happier stories with more of a joking tone and lots of laughs. He spoke teasingly of his friends, calling them knobheads and pricks every other sentence.

Kim listened to him intently, adding in her comments and giggles in between pauses. She was very happy for Trott.

Within a day of leaving the forest, they had managed to be just in reach of this farmhouse that Trott kept speaking of. The sun was just going down, casting deep colors along the sky as the light said it’s goodbye.

Upon seeing it, Trott just beamed. He unclipped the walkie-talkie from his pocket, and pressed the button, speaking into it lowly.

“I have sights on alpha,” he smiled to himself. He had picked up his pace, and Duncan and Kim had followed in suit, eager to finally meet the beasts that Trott had ranted on about for ages.

After a few moments, when there was no reply, he frowned. He didn’t pause in his footsteps, but did look down at the device strangely. He thought it’d make sense for him to not be able to reach them back in the forest, being that he was far out of range. But now, approaching the house quite rapidly? Surely if Ross could reach them from the city then he could reach them from just outside the door.

“Hello? Guys, you hear me?”

“Are they not answering?” Duncan had caught up to him, walking besides him. Kim still dragged behind, cursing her tiny legs.

Trott shook his head, perplexed, and frowned. Worry started edging in his mind, and it just made his legs move faster. He felt like he might be sick, he didn’t like the thought of something terrible happening to either of his friends.

“They’re probably asleep.”

“It’s barely even sunset,” Trott argued. “There’s no way-”

“Maybe… Maybe they just didn’t hear it,” Duncan suggested. He was slightly worried as well, and only hoped that Trott’s friends were okay. He didn’t know how Kim and himself could deal with Trott even more upset than he was when they first found him.

Trott didn’t reply,and as he got closer and closer to the house, it was easier to take in the details. Everything looked still, suspiciously still, but normal at first. Then, he noticed it. The door was wide open, and as he got even closer and closer he could see what looked like a body lying still on the floor.

His mind panicked.

“SMITH! ROSS!”

Trott broke into a sprint. His mind was on fire, his stomach boiling up a storm of worry and concern. His brain was screaming, trying to tell him that they were fine, nothing happened, it wasn’t true, it _it couldn’t be true._

When his feet hit the first porch step, he noticed it. There was a lot of blood, drying on the old wood.. The foul stench of a dead body hit him, and his stomach churned.

“SMITH! ROSS!” He screamed louder, nasty screams that bubbled at of his throat and tore it to shreds.

He stepped over the corpse of an obviously dead infected. It’s hair was nearly gone, and it’s face was old and decaying.

“ALEX! ALEX PLEASE!” Trott continued crying out to them, screaming. “ROSS! GOD DAMMIT!”

He ran through the house with determination, tears already stinging at his eyes. He swung doors open with fervour, stepping in and calling out for their names once again. He had checked the whole house fairly quickly.

He didn’t understand how he could feel so exhausted in a matter of seconds. He collapsed at the bottom of the stairs, in the back of his mind recognizing a pair of footsteps treading in the house, belonging to Kim and Duncan. Voices accompanied, but they were mostly drowned out.

Trott couldn’t have lost them. He couldn’t have. They have to… They have… They have to still be here. They can’t be gone, they can’t be…

~~~

“Trott! Trott! You can’t be- you _can’t_ be serious!”

“Try me,” Trott muttered back. He probably sounded quite rude, quite pissed off as well. He felt tense, felt angry, felt lonely and sad and all of these things had rolled up into one huge storm that was roaring and rumbling in his chest. He was looking through his bags, desperately running around the house and grabbing anything that could possibly help him. He almost regretted clearing this place out in the first place.

“Trott! You don’t even know where they’ve gone,” Kim argued. She stood behind Trott, a good distance. She wanted to give him space, of course, but she was getting more and more frustrated and it was getting harder and harder not to just tackle the man to the floor and lock him in a room where he couldn’t do anything stupid and irrational.

“We usually don’t split off in directions randomly,” Trott hissed out. “They probably continued going west.”

“ _Probably_?”

“Listen, Kim, I really don’t give a fuck about what you think about what I’m doing but-”

“Trott, I really think you _should_ care. Do you think Ross or Smith would be happy finding out that you just took off in the middle of the night, in a random direction that they _probably_ ’ went? What happens when winter comes, Trott, and you’re alone, going in a direction that you realize that they didn’t even go, huh? What happens then?”

Trott groaned. He leaned his head back.

“Stop making sense, please.”

“Trott, Trott, please actually think about it. If we wait till morning, we can all go together. That’ll be safer, will it not? Surely they stopped somewhere because of winter, so we will be able to catch up to them.”

“We need to go as soon as possible,” Trott shook his head. “I’m not waiting for winter to be upon us and having to trudge through snow to find them.”

“I’m sure we can afford a night of rest,” Kim hissed. “Maybe, there’s something around that can give us a hint to where they’ve gone?”

Trott shrugged. Fuck, Kim was right. He didn’t want to admit it, but he should listen to her. He probably was going to. Exhaustion was already setting in, and he wasn’t sure how far he could make it without passing out.

“Due to your silence, I’m going to assume I’ve won the argument and you shall be staying?”

Trott didn’t make to move, and Kim nodded, smiling to herself.

“That’s right,” she hummed. She patted him on the shoulder. “Go get some rest, Trott. We can go as soon as dawn breaks.”

~~~

Ross brought his bat up behind his head, slamming it back down onto the infected’s head as it neared. The clinking noise of the bat connecting with a skull was accompanied by the squelch of guts and blood being sprayed everywhere. The infected fell to the floor, blood turning the white snow around it red.

“You alright,” Smith asked, jogging up behind Ross. He set a hand on his shoulder, and Ross nodded.

“Yeah, it was just one of them.”

Their breath’s made deep puffs of smoke appear in front of them. Ross, even at his age, still thought it was amusing, imagining they were dragons breathing out steam and smoke as hot coals burned deep in their chests.

Smith nodded and patted his shoulder, squeezing one last time before stepping in front of Ross to open the nursery door.

Ross had to admit that the town was quiet strange. Everything seemed so intact, as if it hadn’t been touched by raiders or disrupted by the apocalypse upon them. It was similar to the house, though at least here there were infected.

Ross stepped in after him, closing it securely behind him. He breathed out, not feeling much warmer like he had hoped.

The building was quite small. Like Smith had said, it was very overgrown. Vines and leaves crept up walls, branches and roots curled around and even came through things. Plants with flowers in it had grown wild, with bright green leaves and petals.

“This is incredible,” Ross breathed out. It was beautiful, almost looked like something straight out of a videogame. It had barely been a year, and yet, the whole place looked completely overrun with greenery.

Smith chuckled and glanced back at Ross.

“Yeah, wait till you see the break room, I think that’s what it was. I think the owners of the place were particularly fond of roses.”

Smith led Ross through a doorway near the back, opening up into a much larger room. All of the walls were glass, looking out onto the outside world. The windows looked tinted slightly, maybe in a special coat of something to help the plant growth.

Even now, with the sun weak, the light filled the room beautifully. Every corner seemed lit up in a soft light, gently caressing flower petals and stems.

One wall of the room was lined with shelves. The shelves were lined with various pots and tools. Small shovels and rakes hung on metal hooks, handles covered in pretty designs and colors. Next to the shelves, there was a piece of wall with multiple plastic boxes nailed in. Inside the boxes were multiple bags of seeds in each box.

Ross glanced at all of them, recognizing popular colorful flower names and pictures among them. He bit his lip, grabbing a couple packets of the tomato seeds.

Planters were all over this room as well. They seemed homemade, simple constructions of rotted wood painted with bright colors. The plants inside looked all leafy and green, and Ross could only assume there were vegetables planted there.

Smith kneeled down next to one of the planters, examining before reaching to pluck things out. He grabbed onto particular leaves and tugged, small potatoes being revealed hanging from what Ross could only assume were the roots. (Now that he thought about it, he really didn’t have any knowledge of plants).

“The carrot planter is over there,” Smith spoke, pointing to a planter on the far side of the room. “I’d nab most of them, just in case.”

Ross nodded and walked over, sitting next to the planter he was directed to. He started unearthing the carrots from the ground, stuffing them into the plastic bags that they had brought along.

“It’s crazy that these things are still growing,” Ross murmured. He would’ve thought that they would all be dead right now, without water or proper care. He could see weeds sprouting throughout the plants, and he was surprised they haven’t died.

“There really aren’t cobwebs either,” Smith added. “It looks fairly nicely kept, just barely starting to be overgrown. As if someone was here not so long ago.”

“You think?”

“It would explain the lack of raiders in the area, the lack of infected population. Maybe they chilled out here for awhile, kinda looked after the city… Maybe the infection hadn’t reached them until recently.”

“That’s impossible,” Ross shook his head. “It’s been over a year. It had to have hit.”

“The town was small, implying a small population. Maybe they had a good control on things.”

“They would’ve had walls. There would’ve been more of an imprint here. It looks untouched.”

“Because they continued living here as if nothing was wrong?”

Ross paused. That did somewhat make sense, though it seemed slightly impossible.

“How would someone be able to continue running a town for nearly a year, with no walls to keep the infected out? How would they deal with people who died in the town. Surely there were lots of old people living here.”

“You think?”

“A small town, with tons of farms? I mean, our house is stocked with doomsday supplies. Younger people don’t really tend to get paranoid and prepare for the apocalypse, do they?”

“Probably would’ve done us some good, ha,” Smith chuckled. He dusted his hands off on his jeans and stood, grabbing the garbage bag.

“My point is, that it just seems crazy that a whole town of people lived here fine for a year. It just doesn’t add up.”

“Well then maybe it was only a person or two. Maybe whoever ran this plant nursery stayed behind, but was driven out recently.”

Ross sighed and shrugged.

“Well, are there any beds in here?”

Smith bit his lip.

“Last time I was here… I believe I saw a sleeping bag in the corner or something.”

“So they just totally abandoned this place and left their shit behind?”

“Maybe, I’m not sure. I’m gonna… take a better look around.”

~~~

Ross gasped, whining into lips as his fingers wound into wet curls. Smith’s longer hair wasn’t that bad of a thing, he realized, when he could tug on it hard and earn grunts and moans from him.

Ross smiled against his lips, kissing back with equal enthusiasm. It probably wasn’t the most graceful thing, their teeth clashing and noses bumping, too busy enjoying the taste of each other’s tongues to really care about anything else.

Warm calloused hands held his hips in place, pinning him against the tile wall. It felt smooth under his skin, a great contrast to the nearly scalding warmth of water and steam and the body plastered to his front.

Smith pulled away from his lips, smiling as his head dipped and instead found Ross’ neck. Ross sighed in pleasure, gripping his hair just a bit harder as he leaned his head back. Lips at his neck and shoulders sent fire through his veins, made him feel impossibly warm. Pleasure trickled through his body, spreading slowly but surely until he swore he felt as if he was riding the best high of his life.

“God, Smith,” Ross moaned. He could feel the pulses of arousal deep in his belly, making his legs feel weak. If Smith wasn’t holding him, he probably would’ve fallen.

“You’re so damn sexy, Ross,” Smith mumbled against his skin. He kissed and sucked galaxies into his skin, very obvious marks up his neck and shoulders and upper chest. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Only they could see them.

Ross smiled and bit his lip, letting out sighs of pleasure. Everything felt incredibly warm and comfy, like fluffy blankets fresh out of the drier. Shower sex really wasn’t a thing that Ross had partaken in before, and he supposed being able to do it in the apocalypse was a nice reward for surviving this long.

Smith’s lips moved, lower. He littered Ross’ collarbones with red marks and bruises, both from his lips and from where his beard scratched skin. He continued downwards, licking and sucking on Ross’ nipple.

Ross gasped and moaned, holding Smith’s head closer as blood rushed to every inch of his body.

“God- don’t stop that.” It felt incredibly good, much better than Ross would think it would. He felt himself grow harder just from feeling that, the ache in his belly desperate as Smith’s tongue teased him.

Smith didn’t, at least not for a bit. He circled his tongue around both of his nipples, sucking and teasing them. Ross made the most amazing sounds as he did so, and with both reluctance and excitement he moved lower down Ross’ body.

“Oh fuck.” Ross stared with eyes heavy with pleasure, watching Smith kneel in front of him. He was face level with his erection, staring up at Ross with a small smirk.

“God, you are _hard_ Ross.”

“Yeah, I know. Can you suck me off already?”

“Mm, definitely.”

Smith smiled up at him before leaning forward. He gripped the base of him, giving a slow stroke that had Ross moaning loud as his hips lifted off the wall. Smith’s other hand gripped Ross’ hip to hold him in place as  he continued to stroke him nice and slow. Water made it slicker, easier, and the sounds rumbling from Ross’ throat were incredibly hot.

Ross had his eyes closed, mouth hanging open with his hand still tangled in Smith’s curls. The water made everything all that much warmer, all that much lucid. Everything seemed to slow down and take its time, made everything feel more intense.

“Hey, I’m not gonna suck you off if you don’t look at me.” Smith murmured.

Ross whined and slowly looked down, seeing Smith on his knees giving him yet another hot spike of arousal. He whimpered helplessly as Smith squeezed the head of his dick, and the sound got even more desperate when Smith lowered his head to take him into his mouth.

Ross was very loud, Smith learned quickly. That of course, shouldn’t have come as a surprise. It was normal, really, for Ross to be loud. The only difference here was instead of strange screaming it was incredibly arousing moans and whimpers.

Smith moved his head slow at first. He kept eye contact with Ross the whole time, enjoying the inticing sight of Ross coming undone.

Ross’ other hand quickly found its way into Smith’s hair. He tugged relentlessly, pleased by the vibrations of hums that would come from Smith in return. He could feel it in his core, the pleasure and the nearly unbearable heat of Smith’s mouth around him.

Ross didn’t want to question how Smith got so good a this, and really didn’t care at the moment. He could ask Smith later. For now, all he cared about was the fact that this felt too god damn good to stand and that his body was repeatedly shivering and tensing with each bob of Smith’s head.

Smith seemed to take him lower and lower every time. He sucked and hollowed his cheeks, making noises that made Ross blush and whimper as he heard and felt them.The sensation in his belly just got warmer and warmer, making his muscles twitch-y and weak and ready to collapse and tense.

“Oh, God Smith- Yes,” he moaned. He couldn’t take his eyes off of him, didn’t want to blink and miss a single second. Watching his dick slide in and out of Smith’s mouth, seeing the way Smith looked up at him so damn seductively, it was far too arousing than it should’ve been.

“Please, Smith- Just- Ah-” Ross’ moan bled into a whine, and his eyes went wide at the feeling of Smith’s hand creeping up his thigh. Warm, wet calloused fingers slid higher and higher, and he felt his face get red as they went back.

Ross groaned deep in his throat when he felt fingers pressing against him, and he blushed at the far too powerful spike of pleasure that shocked his whole body in response. His mind was screaming at him, as he processed where Smith’s fingers were and how they were rubbing against _his ass_.

“Smith,” he hissed out, desperately. Not asking to stop, no, definitely not.

Ross was sure if Smith could smirk with a dick in his mouth, he would. Smith just took him deeper, humming and relaxing his throat. Ross let out a broken squeak when even the base of him was inside Smith’s mouth, the tip of his dick hitting the back of Smith’s throat.

Smith pressed a finger into Ross just barely, perfectly timed. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked, pushing the finger in further as Ross relaxed around him and allowed it. Smith rubbed his tongue along the underside, watching Ross with awe as he very slowly thrust the finger inside him.

He watched Ross progressively closer and closer to his climax. His voice fluctuated rapidly from deep moans to whines, and he just tugged harder and harder on his hair. It really only took one particularly deep thrust of Smith’s finger, brushing a spot inside Ross that set his veins alight.

Ross whined and ground down on the finger, pulling hard on Smith’s hair as his mind went white with pleasure and his whole body was engulfed in warmth. His whole body tensed and he came hard, moaning and whimpering Smith’s name as he rode the high. The feeling swept over him in harsh waves, getting harder and harder until the peak in which they slowly fell away.

Smith pulled away slowly, moving his hands to grab the hips of a trembling Ross. He smirked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not _that_ good, am I?”

Smith took in the form of him, pleasantly pink and shaking. Ross could only manage a glare, as he tipped his head back and tried to catch his breath.


End file.
